


Queen of the Damned

by Stellanti Nocte (lucidown)



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, F/M, Hunter Dean, M/M, Musician Castiel, Non-Explicit Sex, Vampire Castiel, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:10:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidown/pseuds/Stellanti%20Nocte
Summary: The legendary vampire Castiel has reinvented himself as a rock star in the contemporary American music scene. His music wakes Abaddon, the queen of all vampires, and inspires her desire to make Castiel her king. Her malevolent power is so great that all the immortal vampires must stand against her if they want to survive. Meanwhile, Dean, a young Hunter with a fascination for the dark side falls in love with Castiel.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work following the plot of the movie Queen of the Damned. I do not own the movie or Supernatural and I am not profiting in any way from this transformative work of fiction.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think!

An empty breeze blew across the deserted cemetery. Footsteps approached, clicking against the worn cobblestones as The Man strolled slowly past the headstones and mausoleums. He stopped and turned his head, his attention drawn momentarily by the sound of a horse and carriage echoing in the distance. He trailed a fingertip over a headstone, dragging back some of the spongy moss with his nail, before turning sharply and continuing his walk.

_There comes a time for every vampire when the idea of eternity becomes momentarily unbearable..._

The Man reached an old stone tomb and, without hesitation, leapt on top of it. He stood steadily atop the roof, silhouetted against the moon like a large, black bird. He gazed out into the night for a time before jumping lightly to the ground and entering the tomb, pulling the heavy stone door closed behind him.

_The wounds suffered from love and failed friendships don't heal like a human's, but seem to only gape larger. The longing to be mortal returns, a longing for finiteness. In 1883 I suffered such a spell and decided to cease feeding on blood. Just lie in the earth and let time return to its natural state..._

Outside the tomb, the wind picked up, the leaves of a fledgling vine grew up the side of the stone and began to rustle. Outside the tomb, time moved along steadily. Outside the tomb, night passed to day and back again. Outside the tomb, shadows from the sun and moon drifted across the cemetery. As days and months flew by, the creeping vine wound and grew in circuitous patterns all around the tomb.

_I had hoped the sounds of the passing eras would fade out, and a kind of death might happen. A kind of forgetting where I would be healed from my wounds._

Outside the tomb, the clip-clop of horses and the squeak of perambulators dissolved into the thump and scrape of industrial engines.

_But as I lay there, the sounds didn't fade but grew with the world._

Outside the tomb, the buzz of prop engines melted into the sound of jets streaming overhead. The sounds of cars, machines, radio broadcasts all merged into a medley of music: Jack Benny, Muddy Waters, Elvis, Hendrix, Sex Pistols.

_And gradually the world didn't sound like the place I had left, but something different... better..._

Outside the now vine-covered tomb, the sounds of the modern world persisted.

_A new fearless attitude had possessed the world, brave and Godless. I began to wonder if it was not time to resurrect. But the thing that eventually brought me back - the decisive thing really - came like a bolt out of the blue._

Guitars struck, drums cracked and music thrummed into existence, raw and dark. Slender hands with long, painted red nails caressed the keys of a keyboard. Large Gothic rings flashed against the strings of a guitar, and a half-pound of silver bracelets jangled against hands clenched tight around drum sticks.  
Long hair, body piercings, Celtic tattoos, and brightly-coloured nylons showed off a lot of pale, smooth flesh. The musicians were all young and beautiful.

The boy on the guitar broke out of the cacophony of music, louder and closer than the rest. His solo was a scraping roar, like a bandsaw being twisted into the most gorgeous, powerful notes. His face was set in an expression almost religious in its emotion.

_A music so sublime, so deeply vampiric, I had no doubt it could be heard in Hades. I had no choice... it summoned me._

The full-sound of the band rushed back in to join the guitar, creating a sense of vertigo with its energy.

Inside the tomb, the music echoed about the stone chamber, thrumming a deep, life-giving pulse. Suddenly, the lid of the sarcophagus scraped and slid to one side.

The Man re-emerged from the tomb, his cape now tattered, his posture bent. He crept across the cemetery in unnatural, staccato movements as if hindered by the physics of distance and the labours of time. As he walked, he heard the music, it drew him toward it.

The Man moved through the shadows, avoiding the spill of yellow light from the street lamps. Stopping in a darkened alleyway, he gasped for air, exhausted by his movements. Tilting his head, he listened again to the mesmeric tune of the band in the distance, when, from down the alley, a voice spoke softly in French.

"Besoin d'une solutions?"

The Man stared hungrily at the newcomer and his proffered little parcel wrapped in foil.

Pulling deeper into the shadows, the caped man beckoned the dealer over. The Man approached and with a wild animal cry, The Man lunged like a phantom. A flash of yellowing teeth and the dealer was on the ground, the man set upon him. Over the sound of his choked and gurgling breathes, the band's song rushed in upon the man again, reaching an incredible crescendo as the violent frenzy continued. The monster ignored the music in favour of gnawing at the dealer's neck.

Without removing his mouth from his victim's neck, the monster pulled it’s own hand into it’s eye line. It’s veins refilled with the flow of warm blood before it’s eyes, the skin regained the youthful tautness and pallor of health.

As he rose from his victim, his now revitalized face thrown back to the night in appreciation, he smiled. His messy black hair framed his beautiful features and his bulbous lips glistened red from the stolen blood.

_Whether it was that first meal, the music, or the 100 years of rest, I'm not sure, but suddenly I was feeling better than ever. My appetite for living was voracious. My hearing so exact I could locate precisely the source of the music..._

In the street, The Man emerged from the shadows, outfitted in the dealer's snug-fitting leather outfit. He looked up at an extremely run-down flophouse and pursed his lips in distaste.

My old house.

High in the building, a single window glowed with dim light; the source of the music evidently within. The whole house shook from the rhythm of the band playing inside.

Inside, the room boomed with music, speakers stacked high on all sides, literally shaking the house to its foundations.

The band members of Satan's Night Out, James, Alex and Carly, stared at each other as if in some tantric trance as they played. Alex's long fingers climbed up and down his guitar, Carly's waifish body sensually curled around her keyboard, the waves of music flowing through them while James, on drums, drove them further through the beat.

_It was hard to believe these beings were mortal - so confident in their skin. Everything in my body wanted to be with them. I couldn't help myself._

Then, from somewhere in the room, an angelic voice began to hum the most hypnotic melody over the tune, melding in exquisite harmony. Arching her neck in some higher ecstasy, Carly looked across the makeshift studio and suddenly stopped playing.

Alex's fingers stalled mid-fret and he turned to her, "What the hell, Carly?"

Seeing her stunned face, Alex and James turned to see The Man perched like a raven on top of the stack of speakers, eyes closed, still humming to the fading reverb of the guitars. Slowly, he opened his ice blue eyes.

"Please don't stop."

James recovered first, "What the fuck, man? How did you get in here?"

The man cocked his head slightly, surveying the drummer.

"The door, of course."

James and Alex looked at the door on the other side of the attic. It was located such that they would have seen him enter. Carly hadn't stopped staring at the man, taken aback by his handsome features.

Drinking Carly in with his eyes, his lips tugged up slightly.

"Your music woke me from the longest sleep. It's sublime. In two hundred years I've never heard anything quite like it."

Alex blinked and stammered, "Who the hell are you?"

_The question provoked an irresistible urge..._

The Man smiled, revealing his lethal white canines to the three, "You may call me, Castiel…the vampire Castiel."

The three were stunned, unable or unwilling to believe The Man.

_It just rolled out of my mouth. With one simple sentence I had betrayed everything about my kind. Betrayed our code of secrecy._

Castiel leapt lightly off the speakers.

"Your struggles are over."

Faster than they could see, he was suddenly across the room and the three whirled as he continued, "All that you've ever dreamed of will be yours."

They spun around again to find Castiel right behind them, smiling.

Alex's voice trembled as he risked a question, "What the hell is this?"

Castiel's smile grew, "Your lucky day."

They all stared at him, faces white. A beat. Then, like plaster breaking, James' face split into a big smile.

"Cool. We've got our very own vampire."

Carly and Alex looked at each other, still adjusting to the surreal turn of events. They smiled warily, following James' lead.

Carly swallowed, her eyes hardened and she sauntered up to Castiel bravely, planting a hand on her hip.

"Hey, Vampire Castiel, I've always wondered... about Keith Richards..."

_It was a bold move, I admit. But from that moment on, they were my friends, my children, my band. Together we rode on the wave of my preternatural ambition to superstardom, giving the world a new god... me._


	2. Come out, Come out, Wherever you are.

~~~ 6 months later ~~~

The city lights of London winked and blinked from above. Below, police cars rested, sectioning off a few blocks around a sleek, ultramodern office building where a huge crowd had gathered.

Through the horde, a very long, black limousine snaked its way toward the building. Rows of fans dressed as Goths, ghouls and vampires screamed at the vehicle as it progressed.

"Castiel! Castiel!"  
Girls pressed their breasts and necks up against the limousine. Thump! Thump! Fan after female fan flung herself on the car. Groupies screamed with pure excitement.

The cacophony continued as the door to the limo opened. The crowd's screams reached a fever pitch as James, Alex and Carly climbed out, ogling at the sight. Roger Smythe, their business manager, got out next, hustling them through the crowd.

A wave of hysteria hit the fans. Roger hustled the band through the crowd and up the stairs into the building, past a giant billboard with their own images displayed huge, Castiel's smirking face above them all and the announcement - CASTIEL - LIVE & UNDEAD - OCTOBER 31, ALL HALLOW'S EVE, DEATH VALLEY, U.S.A.

Inside a high-tech conference room the band sat up front, faced by an audience of over fifty journalists and then another fifty photographers and TV cameras. But they weren't there to see the three. The room crackled with anticipation. Roger cleared his throat and stepped up to the podium.

"May I present, the Vampire Castiel."

He pushed a button and a black curtain slid open to reveal a huge monitor on the wall. Every eye was glued to the screen, which flickered twice.

Nothing.

Then suddenly, on the screen, a face in shadow appeared...Castiel. He opened his mouth and his voice boomed out over the crowd.

"Good evening. I'm so sorry I'm late. I was just...catching my breakfast."

He leaned forward into the light. Hushed whispers moved through the crowd as Castiel's eyes burned unnaturally bright. His white skin absolutely glowed, luminous.

Castiel surveyed them all with a tight smile. Then, grinning wider, he revealed his fangs.

A journalist snorted and muttered quietly, "Excellent makeup job. Marilyn Manson, look out."

The silence broken, a thousand questions suddenly burst out of the journalists.

Roger held up his hands to regain order, "Hey, hey! We're gonna keep this short here! One at a time. You!"

He pointed to a pretty French female, who smirked and tossed her long brown hair, preening at the attention.

"So, Castiel. You say you're a real vampire. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I remember about vampires is you usually try to keep your identities secret."

Castiel smiled.

"Yes. But why hide it in this day and age? I've hidden in the shadows for centuries. It's time to share myself with the world."

In the corner, Roger gave a big winking smile to a camera crew. The journalists smiled back, playing along. A younger, hipper music magazine journalist piped up.

"And it doesn't hurt the record sales, huh? Your album just topped all kinds of sales records."

Castiel exhaled lightly through his nose and inclined his head, "Our label isn't complaining, no."

The French journalist looked slightly miffed at having her limelight stolen, "Could you prove it? You know, give us a demonstration of your powers?"

Castiel's eyes flashed as he slowly caressed one pearly white fang with his tongue.

"If you'd like, I'll give you a private demonstration in your hotel room tonight."

The journalists all laughed and the French lady flushed and looked down at her lap, overwhelmed by Castiel's leer.

Another reporter called out, "Why not a demo at your own house? I mean, what's with all the secrecy about where you stay? Is it true you move residences every few days?"

Castiel smiled, giving away nothing, "After calling a stone tomb home sweet home for so long, I like to experience as much diversity as I can. Wouldn't you?"

His easy and flippant response earned him a smile. Another question was fired from the back of the room.

"There are a lot of rumours flying around the internet about the hidden meaning in your lyrics, that you're giving away 'vampire secrets.' Something in all that?"

Castiel smirked, his eyes flashing with true amusement for the first time since the interview began, "Maybe I'm trying to resurrect a few old friends. Daring them to come out."

"Of the closet?" The man prompted.

"Of the casket."

The crowd laughed. They were enjoying the performance despite none of them taking it seriously.

Some viewers, however, were.

Inside a private club, within a darkened back room, a man in a charcoal suit was playing pool. Looking up over his dark glasses, his strange, luminescent, grey eyes glared up at Castiel on the TV.

A music journalist pushed for another answer, "Your first and only concert's in Death Valley, just days away. Why just the one?"

Castiel shrugged, "I don't like repeating myself."

"But these other vampires, aren't they going to be pissed off that you're giving away their secrets?"

White fangs flashed in a wide smile with the question, "I imagine they are, yes."

The journalist pushed harder, sensing a quote, "Do you have anything to say to the other vampires listening out there?"

Castiel cocked his head and nodded slowly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do..." Leaning forward, he smiled at the TV camera, "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

A group of dangerous-looking men stared stony-faced at the screen in the club, all of their eyes glowing strangely in the ultra-violet light. The pool player in the background fixed his gaze on the green turf of the table, his hands shaking quietly with rage.

One finally broke the silence, "Goddamn fool's going to bring back the Inquisition."

The damn broke.

"I say we kill him, before this gets out of hand. Bleed him dry."

"Gotta find him first. Elusive bloke. Never know where he's going to turn up."

"Well we know one place he's definitely going to be..."

A loud crack echoed through the room. Every head turned to look at the pool player. The only female present clicked her tongue as she made her way to the table. She gently pulled the broken halves of the cue from the player's grasp and laid them on the table. She then turned and settled herself gracefully on a settee, lifting an Evian bottle to her lips.

Someone spoke again, "When I was in Manchester, the coven there was saying exactly the same thing. That we should nail him at the concert."

The female clicked her tongue again, "I don't know, if he's as old as they say, he's gotta be pretty strong... If you came within a mile of him, he'd eat you alive."

She brought the Evian bottle to her lips again. Drinking heartily, the liquid inside glistened a thick, deep red.

There was a snort and the pool player finally spoke, his voice gravely, "Yes. Well, let's see how he handles a thousand of us at once."

Lightning quick, he snatched a broken half of the cue and whacked one of the balls remaining on the table. The TV exploded just as Castiel smiled one last time at the reporters.

"See you all in Death Valley."

All alone in his magnificent chateau outside of France, Castiel leaned back from the video camera into the comfort of his ornate suede lounge chair. He placed the remote down on the table before him.

He studied the device for a moment, contemplating the interview, before chuckling under his breath. He stood, crossing to huge doors, which he opened wide to the night air.

He walked across his lavish grounds, gazing up into the night sky as he had long ago before his sleep.

Closing his eyes against the darkness, Castiel inhaled like an emperor taking in his kingdom, stretching his arms out, drinking in the adulation.

Slowly, his grin faded...a melancholy look came over him as he spoke to the night, "Come out, come out, wherever you are."


	3. Dean

A handsome young man lay tangled in black satin sheets. His short brownish blonde hair spiked out around a pair of headphones. He slept to Castiel's voice, still as death. A single dimmed lamp lit the room and revealed his strong, toned body. He was surrounded by his work, stacks of papers and files, ancient language books, and his laptop computer, open to a translation site. Another book lay in his limp hand, _The Unconscious Vampire_. His eyes fluttered.

_Billowing floor-to-ceiling curtains surround a six-year-old boy lying awake in a large bed. His green eyes wide with curiosity. Laughter can be heard wafting in with the breeze._

_His bare feet pad down the endless corridor. The little boy is dwarfed by the stone pedestals, all lit with candles. Laughter echoes through the halls._

_Inside a great hall, the boy moves past rough-hewn columns, watching something with great curiosity. Behind him, a giant mural of names are cut into the stone walls. A family tree, extending up onto the ceiling and down to the floor._

_A grand party is in progress. There are about thirty people, all thin, pale and beautiful. An eclectic group, elegantly-dressed in Indian silks, Arabic veils, mixed with a few gaudy Versace outfits. Guests lean into each other's necks, showing blood-red tongues and fangs._

_A young man scoops the boy up and puts him on his knee._

_He smiles, "Ah, Dean. You want to come and play with us, don't you?"_

_The boy stares at him, nervous, intrigued._

_“Dean!” a woman's voice calls out urgently._

_The man smirks and strokes the boy's cheek, "Soon. Soon, little one, I'll make sure you're with us forever."_

_The woman's voice is more urgent, "Dean!"_

Dean sat up with a start. Shaking his head, he ran his hand over his face. He stood, heart still pounding, trying to shake off the dream. He took off the headphones and tossed them back on his bed. Walking over to the mantel above his fireplace, he picked up a solitary, framed photo, holding it tight as he breathed deeply to control his pulse.

A young Dean stared straight back at the camera. He was held in the arms of a blonde woman whose back was to the camera. Young Dean was peering over her shoulder to smile at the.

He put the photo down, catching his reflection in a mirror, lit by the warm lamplight. His face was lined with distress, troubled by the dream, but his bright green eyes were hard, determined. He went to the window, staring out into the black night. The dark waters of the Thames snaked through the London cityscape, glittering with the lights from thousands of windows. He leaned over and flicked the switch on the lamp, sighing into the resulting darkness.


	4. Hunters

Fluorescence pierced through the black night as Dean came out of the tube station in a tight, black shirt, fitted jeans, and polished shoes. He looked down the street. In one direction, lay a busy, brightly-lit street. Dean watched a group of tourists coming out of a pub, laughing.

He turned, looking in the other direction; a much darker street lay that way. He hesitated a long moment, staring at the light, then, seemingly unable to help himself, plunged toward the darkness, the laughter echoing, then dying.

Dean passed rent-boys stepping from the shadows as cars cruised by. Trying to avert his gaze, he narrowed his eyes as one got into a car. The boy glanced back at him, before the car door clicked shut.

Dean passed a few couples who were using the shadows for privacy in the dark, filthy streets. He strode past a girl leaning against a brick wall, a man grunting, moving rhythmically against her.

Fog floated in the yellow vapour lights and Dean paused at the intersection of a narrow alley. He hesitated for a second, then turned down the alley, plunging into the blackness.

Moments later, he found himself at a Soho private club's entrance, a solitary door with a faded sign and a dull blue light mounted above the only evidence of its presence.

He heard strange whispering and watched as figures moved toward the door through the fog. One pushed a buzzer and Dean stared, barely breathing, his heart pounding.

The figures had white, luminescent faces and strange, bright, glowing eyes. A moment later, a slot in the door opened and the glowing eyes of another creature stared out, scrutinizing them. The door opened and closed just as quickly behind the group.

Dean stood there, deliberating. He took a step closer to the door. He stopped. He took another step. Hearing something, he whirled around.

Another group of the strange figures was walking steadily down the street towards him. Dean started backing away as a hissing sound filled the alley. He ducked into an alcove and as the figures passed, he closed his eyes and held his breath.

~~~

The next day, in another part of London, Castiel's face was displayed on a video screen in front of a room lined from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books and ancient scrolls. The subjects of the books and scrolls were marked: Werewolves, Poltergeists, Possession...etc.

Dean was making a presentation, and he stood before an impressive and imposing group of ten Hunters, all of whom were wearing demure suits.

Dean was excited, nervous, but hoping to impress. He held a remote that controlled the images which were already appearing on the large video screen; clips from Castiel's press conference. Dean stared out at the Hunters.

He cleared his throat and began, "I have reason to believe that Castiel is the real thing. A vampire. And an ancient one."

An elderly Hunter sighed, "I don't know, Dean. It looks to me like he has a good P.R. man with a flair for the theatrical.

Dean leaned forward eagerly, "It would appear that way. But have you listened to his songs? Read his lyrics?"

The Hunters glanced at each other, surprised. Shaking their heads, a few laughed. They were not exactly Castiel's intended audience.

Dean nodded and pressed on, "Well, I have. In one of his songs he refers to a pub called The Sailor's Arms. I think it's a clue."

He pushed a button, and the aforementioned lyrics appeared on the screen.

Reading aloud, he continued, "'Where are you now? Back in the sailor's arms, somewhere in the back streets of Soho?' I tracked down old leases in London. It turns out, in the late 1700's, there was a pub right in the backstreets of Soho called The Sailor's Arms."

The lyrics on screen were replaced by an old engraving of a pub with a sign reading ‘Sailor's Arms’.

"The pub had a reputation for dealing with black magic: witches' covens, seances, that sort of thing."

Quick flashes of gruesome drawings appeared, mostly animal sacrifices. The images ended with one of a corpse floating above a table. Dean spoke faster, letting his enthusiasm take over.

"And most importantly, there are dozens of reports of people being lured there and subsequently attacked by bloodsucking fiends."

Quick flashes of gruesome period newspaper drawings appeared: blood pouring from the neck of a screaming woman, a white-faced ghoul with fangs. Dean grinned, excited by his discovery. On screen, an old map of London appeared.

"Here's where you could find The Sailor's Arms in old London."

He clicked again and a modern map appeared, overlaying the old map.

"And here is where it would be today. Of course The Sailor's Arms isn’t there anymore. That  
part of London is mostly old warehouses and meat-packing plants."

A female Hunter chuckled, "In a few years it will be artists' lofts and pretentious French cafes."

Dean smiled at her but leaned forward as he spoke.

"Yes, but right now there's only one place to get a drink -- of sorts. A private club -- in exactly the same place. The Waverly Arms."

On screen, a photo of The Waverly Arms appeared.

"Evidently, what happens at The Waverly Arms now makes The Sailor's Arms look like a Happy Meal at McDonald's."

He paused for emphasis, looking at the faces of the Hunters, gauging their reactions as he delivered his final point.

"It's a vampire coven. And Castiel's leading us to it."

Murmurs burst out amongst his audience, many of definite interest, some of definite skepticism. Dean's enthusiasm was clearly evident on his face.

The elderly man chose skepticism, "And what makes you think so?"

Dean smiled and pushed a button, ready to receive the Hunters' approval. On screen, a new picture appeared of several figures, white faces, dark clothes, but they were very blurry.

The female Hunter leaned forward, "Dean, can you, uh, focus that any better?"

Dean's good mood was dampened somewhat by embarrassment, "Well... it was taken... while..." He cleared his throat. "... in motion."

The female smiled at him sympathetically. Dean looked around at the other Hunters and saw he was losing their interest. Quickly, he tried to recover their attention.

"But listen, if you look closely, you can see they're vampires. I'm sure of it. And Castiel's leading us to them and..."

"Interesting," the Hunter seated in the centre of the group interrupted. "Perhaps we should assign someone to observe..."

"Oh please, based on this so-called 'data'? That's a waste of time," the elderly one snorted.

The female looked up for a moment, interrupting the other two suddenly, "Wait a second. Who took this picture?"

Dean groaned internally, he was hoping they wouldn't ask that.

"I did."

Murmurs bubbled through the entire group now. They stared at Dean, dismayed.

"You went there?" The female's face was no longer sympathetic.

Dean met her hard gaze, "Yes. Last night."

"And who gave you this directive?"

"No one. I... just... went." He decided to dive in headfirst, "Look, I know it was breaking protocol and I'm really sorry, it's just I think-"

The elderly one tutted, "Dean! You're just an apprentice here! You must follow our rules... Or perhaps we need to reconsider your position.

He stared at him.

The man in the centre spoke again, "For 12 centuries our mission as Hunters has been to observe and record paranormal behaviour. But never get involved. You're getting far too close."

Dean gestured to the photo, defending himself, "Hey, does it look like I got involved? That is not called involvement. That is called running."

"But, Dean, tell us, what did you see?" The female was trying to help again.

Dean turned to her.

"Vampires. Gathering. I'm sure of it."

Dean stepped from the podium, moving through the Hunters as he pleaded his case. He spoke a mile a minute, his passion and volume rising.

"You have to listen to Castiel's lyrics. They're amazing. Many of the references could only be derived from years of research in the Bibliotech de Paris, which seems unlikely for a young rock  
star in his early twenties. Plus there are historical details dating back hundreds of years that  
Castiel describes that don't exist anywhere...except in our library. He refers to Gabriel, the great white lord, who ruled over a group of islands off the Bay of Naples in the late 18th Century. What I'm trying to say, and maybe I'm not doing the best job of it, is that Castiel may be the oldest and most powerful vampire ever documented!

Dean saw that some of the Hunters were once again listening but the elderly one shook his head.

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would he be forecasting this to the world? He's all but drawn a map and marked an X. What vampires hold sacred is keeping their kind a secret. They would never name other immortals, tell where their lairs are. They'd be hunted down."

Dean nodded, "Right. That's the best part. Castiel's not afraid to piss them off. He wants mortals and immortals to know he's there, to know he exists. I don't know why." He glanced at the elderly man, "but this has never happened before. Don't you see? He's a one man revolution."

All the Hunters stared at him a moment and Dean held his breath. Had he gotten them back?

The elderly man finally spoke, "And this photo is your evidence? It's hardly conclusive." He snorted again, "C'mon. It looks like the Blair witch project!"

The Hunters laughed, even the female, and Dean stared at them, his face burning red. He'd lost them, blown it. Made a fool of himself. His frustration rose until he could no longer contain it and it burst out of him.

"Fine. Well then, I guess I'll just have to go back and get better, more conclusive evidence!  
Maybe you just can't unravel all the mysteries of the world out there, by sitting around all day  
in a dusty old library in here!"

As they stared at him, astonished, he gathered his materials and started out of the room. Several started shouting back at him but amidst the uproar, a voice spoke across the room.

"Dean."

Everyone turned, quieting down. Bobby Singer stood in the back of the room.

He jerked his head toward the hall, "My office. Now."

He turned, not checking that Dean was following, and walked out. All the Hunters looked back at him. His face heating, Dean turned and followed his boss out of the hall.

Bobby sat behind an ornate wooden desk in a wood-lined room. The walls were covered with books, artifacts and paintings. Dean stood before him, staring at a corner of the desk. The head Hunter was, though younger than some, more knowledgable than any other.

Bobby fixed his eyes on Dean, pouring two cups of coffee. "How's everything, boy? You a'right? You sleeping?"

The younger man shrugged, "Yeah, I'm great. I just found a vampire."

Bobby chuffed, "Dean... you're taking this Castiel very seriously... why?"

"Because I think I'm on to something big. The most important sighting any Hunter has had in years!" He sighed and collapsed into a chair across from the other man, "Jesus, I don't know, Bobby... I thought I was onto something... Maybe I didn't see anything..."

Bobby took in the dark circles around his eyes and noted how quickly he'd emptied his coffee cup. He poured him more, smiling gently.

"You know we work in a really strange field? The supernatural is beguiling at times. It doesn't like to just be observed, it is only satisfied when it has drawn us in completely. I know because  
I've felt these things myself. That's what we have to resist, as Hunters..." He paused as a shadow crossed his face, "it’s not always easy."

Dean leaned forward, "Bobby. C'mon. You know me. I'm not losing it. I'm onto something. Something that looks...fine looked...like a good lead. You're the one who taught me how to do all this. You're the one who taught me to keep pushing and pushing...

Bobby still looked at him with a penetrating glance. He looked right back.

"Bobby. There's nothing else. Nothing is 'beguiling' me, alright? Nothing. C'mon."

He pursed his lips at the younger man as he downed his whole coffee, registering his strong denial. He smiled at him, forcefully changing the mood.

"Alright. Just checking."

Dean started out of the office. Looking down at papers on his desk, Bobby called out, almost casually.

"Well, all I can say is you're really lucky you're not lying dead in a gutter with two holes  
on your neck."

Dean snorted, "I'd be even luckier if that damn picture came out..." He stopped in his tracks, turned back, and gazed at his mentor, amazed. "Wait a second. So you do believe me? You do think it's a vampire coven."

Bobby looked up, his eyes hard, "Yes. But not exactly for the reasons you think. Though your research is top-notch of course. I wanna show you something."

He went to the paintings hanging on a wall in the back of his office, covered with black velvet. Dean followed. Bobby unveiled them. The first was an Eighteenth-Century painting, the interior of an enormous Italian villa. It depicted a man in his forties with short brown hair, his back to the artist. His face was reflected in a standing mirror, and his eyes dancing with mischief.

Bobby gestured to the paintings, "What do you see?"

Dean took a moment to examine the works, "They're all night-scapes. The detail is amazing. Mid-1500s. Florence."

"Right. And what do you see in this one? And I know it's a Dutch pastoral."

Dean moved to the next painting. Another night-scape, a giant medieval tableaux, circa Bruegel.

Dean ran his finger across the faces, then stopped on the face of a gentleman with short brown hair watching the bloodshed of gory battles and the sacrifices of saints burned at the stake, his distinctive eyes captured once again.

"This man is in both."

Bobby smiled, "Right. He's in all of them."

Dean moved to the next painting, then the next and the next, all night-scapes set and painted in the style of different eras, all featuring a portrait of the same brown-haired man.

"Have you -"

"Carbon tested? Yes. The different paint samples are all authentic. All painted at the time of that particular style."

Dean stopped at a contemporary self-portrait.

"It's Gabriel, Dean."

Dean whirled around, "Gabriel?! From Castiel's lyrics. I knew I was right!"

"Yes, you were. Good work."

Dean grinned at his mentor, victorious.

Bobby ran a hand over the frame of the portrait, "I've been personally tracing him for decades. My little obsession. The oldest vampire ever documented. The closest we've come to the original vampire."

Dean frowned, "What do you mean the original vampire?"

Pointing to a larger depiction of a beautiful woman in Egyptian garb, Bobby continued, "There's a Mesopotamian legend that there once was a queen of Egypt, Abaddon, long before Tutankhamen or Nefertiti. She was believed to be the original vampire. Gabriel himself dates back to 400 B.C."

Dean gazed at all the paintings, shaking his head in wonder, "Bobby, you've been tracking Gabriel your whole life. Maybe he's out there waiting for you right now." The young man couldn't meet his eyes. "Don't you ever want to just go and find him and - ”

Bobby spun quickly to face him, "No. Jesus, we are not talking about having a drink at the Dorchester, Dean. You know that. Especially with the ancient vampires, the older they are, the more powerful, the more dangerous."

He took him by the arm, smiling sadly at the young man, "Anyway, you don't need to go and stake out some club. Your time is too valuable. I have something far better for you."

Dean looked up, surprised, "You do?"

Bobby steered him over to a locked cabinet. "Yes. And I'll tell you something. I've never shown this to anyone. No one else has proved themselves in the way you have."

Dean was taken aback, "Thanks. What is it?"

As he unlocked the cabinet, Bobby glanced back and grinned, "Oh you're gonna love this. Although I'm sure it will keep you up at night."

He took out an old leather-bound journal and turned to Dean, "Castiel's diary. I found it some years ago. This is where you'll find the answers you need."

Dean stared at him in absolute awe, his mouth opened in shock. Bobby gestured in the direction of the Hunters in the library, "They don't need to know everything, right?"

Dean grinned at his mentor as the man gave him the diary, "Thank you for this."

"My pleasure. When I took you on as an apprentice, I knew it was the smartest thing I'd ever done. Now you and I'll meet when you're done. This will be our project."

As Dean left, holding the journal, Bobby smiled after him, but after the door closed, his gaze turned to concern. He crossed back to the paintings, pausing a moment, staring up into Gabriel's mischievous eyes, before shrouding them once again in black velvet.


	5. Rehearsal

A line of hopefuls waiting to enter an exclusive club preened for the judgement of the bouncer, a big man with sleek blonde hair.

He nodded to a slim woman, "Okay, you, in. You. No..." He smiled at a sexy girl, "You in..." And frowned at an unattractive guy, "You, no."

The guy threw up his hands.

"C'mon, man, she's waiting for me in there. She said she was putting me on the list. My name's Norm -"

The bouncer cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, right. Hey, get a life, alright? He nodded to another sexy girl, "You, in."

Across the street, a figure in the shadows watched the interactions.

A second bouncer was making out with one of the young girls around the corner of the building, trying to get a hand up her dress. A cold wind suddenly blew, fluttering her skirt. The bouncer looked up to find a dark figure standing in the shadows.

He scowled at the figure, "Hey, perv, get the hell out of here!"

The figure stepped from the shadows and the bouncer's face turned white. It was Castiel. His fangs were bared and he was snarling lowly in the back of his throat. The bouncer started to back way and the girl started to scream but Castiel clamped his hand over the girl's mouth.

To her, he said, "You. In..."

He gestured to the club. The girl turned and ran for her life and as the bouncer continued to back away, terrified, Castiel turned to him.

He smiled softly, "You. No."

He lunged like a phantom with a flash of teeth, and as their combined weight took them to the ground, the distinct sound of bone crunching sounded into the night.

  
~~~

Castiel entered his home later that night, dabbing his mouth politely with a white handkerchief. The house shook slightly from the vibrations of his band practicing somewhere inside.

He smiled and ventured downstairs to join them, paying no mind to the two sound engineers working on a sound board near the back.

One of them, a stringy red-head chewing on a toothpick, turned to his coworker.

"When's the concert?"

The other man didn't look up from his work, "Four days."

The first whistled around the toothpick, "These guys are gonna kill."

Behind them, Roger sat pensively watching the rehearsal. Surreptitiously, he glanced down at a book on his lap: _Vampires: The Occult Truth_. He stared at it as he spoke into his cell phone.

"Yeah, Phil. We'll need a limo from the airport. No, I don't know which airfield yet... I don't know the arrival time either." He sighed, "Yeah... I'll call you from the plane... Nope, I'll tell the driver where he's taking us... Hey, I don't even know myself!... pick up address in London?... Forget it... you'd never find this place. Christ, we'll probably have changed houses again by then... What can I say, the guy's just..."

Shaking his head, Roger glanced again at his vampire book. When he looked back up, he found that Castiel was staring at him intensely while he sang into the microphone.

"-- just uh... shy... that's it...shy," he said into the device.

Castiel’s voice climbed to reach a high "C" and he leaned into the microphone, closing his eyes as his voice rose higher and higher.

CRACK!

The glass window of the recording booth splintered and Roger jumped out of his skin, stifling a cry.

The sound engineer didn't flinch, just continued rolling his toothpick, cocking a single eyebrow, "Shit."

James, Alex, and Carly whooped with excitement.

"We rock," James grinned.

Castiel inclined his head, "Yes, I'd say I'm down with that."

The other three laughed.

Alex punched the air, "I'm ready for Los Angeles!"

"I'm ready for Death Valley," Carly added. "Two days ‘till we go."

Through the broken glass, Roger slumped in his chair, his nerves totally frayed.

Alex clapped once, "Think we can call that a night."

Unhooking their instruments, Alex and James started packing up as Carly approached Castiel and nuzzled into his neck. He shivered with temptation as her hand slid down to the front of his pants. Batting her hand away, he pulled her into his arms and leaned into her neck, breathing in her scent. He closed his eyes and...opened them to look right at Roger, who was watching him looked extremely unsettled.

Smiling at his manager, Castiel hummed, "Oh, the sweet song of her blood."

Roger stared on, terrified.

"I'll hear it in my head all night."

Gently pushing Carly off and nudging her on her way, Castiel stood and cocked his head at his manager.

"Roger..."

He went right to him, crowding in close and reaching into the other man's open shirt. He pulled out a crucifix that hung around the man’s neck.

"I didn't know you were religious."

Roger laughed nervously as Castiel sniffed the air. He released the chain and Roger backed away. He turned to open the door but stumbled, cutting his hand on a shard of glass. Blood began to trickle immediately from the cut. Roger looked up at Castiel, whose dark eyes were locked on the oozing blood. Roger quickly stuck his hand in his mouth, but pulled it out a moment later with a horrified expression as he realized what he did. He turned to leave but Castiel was faster. The young man stepped close and reached into Roger's shirt pocket, pulling out a clove of garlic. Castiel smirked and shook his head, "Roger..."

Roger tried to laugh again, reaching for the garlic to put it back in his pocket. Castiel snatched his hand, blood trickling down Roger’s wrist now, and spoke, low and intense, "Be careful, Roger. Very careful."

He turned and walked away, leaving his manager to exhale with relief.


	6. The Faces of my Victims

Dean lay on his bed, curtains drawn, the room lit by his single lamp. One of Castiel's songs played in the background as he opened the journal Bobby gave him.

Recognizing the language of inscription as French, Dean narrowed his eyes to focus on the translation.

"Je suis le vampire Castiel...I am the vampire Castiel."

~~

_It was the winter of 1788 and I was brought to a Mediterranean Island by the man who made me... if a man is what you'd call him._

_I awoke in a grand room encircled by candles, their reflections flickering in the great glass windows holding back the outside storm. A flash of lightning jolted me awake. I found myself laying, dressed in a soft linen nightshirt, on a huge antique bed in the room's centre. My neck ached and my hands rose to feel an inflamed wound there. I looked frantically about myself._

_My gaze alit upon the indistinct shape of a man dressed in red velvet, sitting apparently asleep in a chair across the room. An easel stood before him, supporting an unseen painting. I rose out of the bed and grabbed my clothes from a nearby Louis IV chair. As I made for the door, something made me stop. I looked back to see the painting that stood on the easel. It was a portrait of myself in ancient Roman garb, like the god Mars, complete with my dark hair and fiery blue eyes. Unable to help myself, I approached the painting, completely fascinated by my own image, when suddenly the sleeping man leapt up, grabbed me mercilessly and plunged his teeth into my neck._

_I fought as best I could but my strength was no match as I was slowly drawn down to the floor. Finally, the man lifted himself up from my neck to reveal his face. Wiping his blooded mouth on his painter's cloth, he finally spoke, "Castiel. Welcome."_

_Weakened and helpless, I tried to drag myself back across the floor away from him. "Who are you? Do I know you?"_

_The man smiled, "I am unknowable by nature," he advanced again on me as I lay on the ground. "But you may call me Gabriel."_

_As I kept weakly dragging myself away, I attempted reason, "I'm the lord of a great manor. They'll send an army of men to look for me."_

_Gabriel chuckled, "I doubt they'll find you, Lord De Novak. You're a long way from home."_

_My strength left me, and I slumped flat on the floor._

_Gabriel leaned over me, "You're weak...near passing. I can barely hear your heartbeat."_

_I was furious, "I'll kill you!"_

_Gabriel smiled, impressed, "You really do fear nothing. It is why I chose you. Because you think things are possible which are not."_

_I stared at him, my eyes wide, "Chose me? For what?"_

_"To be my companion. Someone to share my burden."_

_Bending down, he gazed at me, "You've lost a great deal of blood."_

_I could feel tears in my eyes but I fought against them. "I'm dying."_

_Suddenly Gabriel drew a knife from a Roman sheath on his belt. With the last of my strength, I grabbed for my attacker's wrist. Words came however, instead of a blow, "Then drink."_

_Guiding my hand with the knife, Gabriel smiled and cut his own arm, opening a vein. I stared in terror as Gabriel let his blood drip onto my lip. I pulled away, horrified as the blood slid into my mouth._

_Gabriel encouraged me, "Good, is it not?"_

_And indeed, it was good. It was a new terror that was gripping me. I crossed myself and stared up into Gabriel's gentle eyes. He bent down, cupping my chin, "Drink and live. You've been brave enough for one night, my son."_

_Gabriel brought his open vein to my lips. I hesitated, but only a moment before diving in. I drank hungrily as Gabriel's face filled with ecstasy. He slowly sunk down to his knees as I fed and fed._

_As I drank, I was flooded by a barrage of images of Gabriel's life through the ages; impressionistic, subliminal burst of images, colour...from the glory days of the Roman Empire to the very moment flashing by._

_I kept drinking from the vampire who was gasping with the creation of his child, "Drink... drink and learn."_

_My body was growing stronger, my back arching up as I drew the liquid life into myself._

_Gabriel was beginning to weaken in turn, "There... there... that will do."_

_But I kept on feeding hungrily._

_"No... no more. Castiel, no more!"_

_With one great move, Gabriel pulled me off his arm and tossed me across the floor twenty feet away. Gabriel reeled back, clamping his open vein with his hand as I curled on the ground, gasping ecstatically from the rush._

_Slowly, I started to feel a change. Pain travelled through my body, consuming me until I could take it no more and I screamed. Gabriel crossed to where I was convulsing on the floor. He knelt and gently wiped my brow. My body thrashed as I grabbed at my arms, my limbs as if they were on fire._

_Gabriel tutted quietly, “Do not be afraid, it is only your body that dies."_

_He continued to wipe my brow as I died._

_Then, my face still buried in his arms, I was filled with euphoria and energy. I began to laugh almost drunkenly. Raising my head, my metamorphosis completed as my skin paled and my eyes filled with a new kind of power._

_"More!"_

_I smiled, the blood of my maker still staining my lips. A beat and Gabriel slowly smiled as well._

  
~~

_I impressed my maker with my thirst for things so he set out to educate me in the unknown. He taught me all about the world, its hidden history...and about myself._

_An old fisherman cried out as I bit into his throat. Gabriel looked on as the fisherman's body relaxed. After a moment, he pulled me away._

_"That's enough, my son. When you feed, you must hold back from the moment of death. You must never take the last drop, or it will draw you in and you will die."_

_The fisherman was moaning. Looking down at the suffering victim, Gabriel swiftly snapped his neck and dumped him into a boat. He picked up an oar, and with vampire strength, drove it like a stake through the bottom of the boat. Water started to bubble in._

_He spoke to me without turning, "Remember, there is wisdom in the flesh, Castiel. A man wears his history on his skin."_

_Gabriel felt my gaze and turned to me, "I'm talking about humanity."_

_As I watched the water begin to fill the bottom of the boat, I couldn't help myself._

_"Humanity?" I snorted. "We're murderers."_

_Gabriel tutted, "We're more than that. Their blood that we take into us carries with it life... their life, their knowledge, their complexity. Appreciate your prey, Castiel."_

_Gabriel gazed at the fisherman, then, with vampire strength, shoved the boat far out into the ocean._

~~

_My senses run amok, like a newborn child. And as for my new powers, I was beside myself with the pleasure of it all._

_Below the brightest of summer night skies, Gabriel and I walked along, talking intensely. The ocean appeared to shimmer in the faint light of stars. In the distance, several bonfires burned on the sand, dancing figures gathered around._

_"The trick is to find the way to face eternity head on. The spirit can be annihilated by boredom just as the body can be destroyed by sun or fire. My solace, my delight, is witnessing  
the unfolding of human destiny..."_

_I watched Gabriel's eyes dance with intellectual fervour. As we walked, we passed a group of teenagers, just younger than myself, at a bonfire, dancing, laughing. I gazed over at them as we passed, hidden._

_Gabriel was still explaining, "...From Christ to the Dark Ages to the enlightenment, I've never been able to divine what was coming. That's what keeps me going - I can't wait to see what human beings are going to do next..."_

_I nodded, taking it in. We passed another bonfire, this one with music floating through the night. An older man sat by the warmth, playing balalaika while his daughter played violin with great talent._

_Gabriel was still talking, "...Who could've predicted the Enlightenment? Or Hannibal and his elephants?"_

_Gabriel stopped finally, turning, realizing I was no longer beside him. He turned back and saw me standing in the shadows, listening to the music. The young woman, sensing something, turned towards me in the shadows as she played._

_Gabriel came to me, pulling me farther into the darkness, "Careful."_

_"But why must we hide, Gabriel? We are the powerful, we are the immortal. We should walk fearless in the open!" I said, annoyed._

_Gabriel actually looked fearful for a moment before he shushed me, "Shhh. The life of a vampire is a life of discretion. We must sleep during the day, when we are vulnerable to the sun. Mortals must never know about us. It is forbidden, for the sake of all our kind."_

_I gazed at the violin player as it finally sunk in, numbness overcoming me. "So I could never know her?"_

_Gabriel shook his head, "Not unless you wanted to kill her."_

_My frustration returned lightning quick, "So I can never be known?"_

_Gabriel sighed. "You're known by me. I granted you that. There are others of our kind, though most are solitary creatures."_

_"My God..." I whispered, horrified._

_Gabriel waved a hand at my exclamation, "Forget God. You are no longer in his realm. Now we must leave."_

_Relenting, I started to follow, but the music quickened and I paused, turning back, as if the music was pulling me. The girl still faced into the shadows towards me, and played fast and wild, her fingers flying. I stood there frozen to the spot, the music pulsing through me._

_I watched her fingers, studying their intricate movements intensely. Unable to control myself, I went back to them, hovering, my face still somewhat obscured by the darkness. I started clapping along to the music, exuberantly. The girl and her father smiled, nodding to me as they played. Gabriel, in the shadows, was fuming._

__

_I felt myself fill with the moment, with the girl's vitality. I noticed that sitting on the ground by the girl were several more instruments. Impulsively, I reached over, picking up a violin. I studied the girl's playing again, then, with my new powers, as if by osmosis, began to play with exactly her skill, with her exact movements._

_The girl and her father laughed, delighted. I played along with them, joyful, exhilarated. The girl's fingers flew and mine picked up speed. Faster. Faster. A glittering torrent of notes flew out of my violin as if made of gold._

_Unconsciously, I stepped closer to the music, into the firelight. The father and his daughter become less certain, as they saw my strangely pale, glowing skin, the luminous shine of my eyes. But I was completely taken by the music, the moment, and did notice. The father and daughter, sensing danger, stopped playing entirely and I looked up. My heart froze as I saw the terror in their eyes. The father started to slowly back away, pointing at me in horror._

_"Fantasma!! Teras!!"_

_Lightning fast, out of the shadows, stepped Gabriel. He grabbed the father. The girl dropped her violin, turned, and started running down the beach to a bonfire in the distance._

_"Stop her, Castiel!" Gabriel snapped at me._

_I could not move; could not do anything but turn to Gabriel, shaking my head in horror._

_"You must!" he yelled again._

_I hesitated a moment longer before forcing my legs into action, running after the girl. She turned back, seeing me getting closer, and started to scream. I was suddenly in front of her with my hand over her mouth, covering her muffled scream. Her struggle was no use against my strength. Reaching up to her neck, I touched it and looked into her terrified eyes..._

_Gabriel knelt over the body of the father on the island's deserted shoreline. He picked him up easily and tossed him in a boat. I gazed at the lifeless body of the girl, unused to the torrent of emotions whirling through me._

_Gabriel turned to me, furious, "I will not have you put everything at risk! You will mind our laws!"_

_Picking up my victim, Gabriel tossed her into the boat as well. "We remain in the shadows. To do otherwise is a road to destruction," he spat out the words as if they were a poison._

_Gabriel turned to me again. I stood in silence, feeling everything and nothing, staring at the girl and her father._

_Gabriel sighed, "I see you still have a few lingering mortal emotions. They will serve you no good, Castiel."_

_I turned to Gabriel, shaking my head, finally speaking in a horrified whisper, "What have you done to me?"_

_Without waiting for an answer, I turned again to the bodies of the girl and her father, my chest filled with pain, an enormous sadness I could not quantify._

_"She was just a child...forgive me," I whispered into the night and closed my eyes._  
~~

_I stood alone in my bedroom, in a deep reverie, playing the girl's violin with incredible passion. It was the only outlet I could find thus far to dampen the pain. My playing picked up speed as I worked myself into a frenzy._

_The faces of my victims haunted me, rising behind my eyes, reminding me of my fate. I played for days trying to expel the last bit of my human feelings...and face the cold, dark wasteland of eternity..._

~~

Reading the journal, listening to Castiel's music, Dean heard the lyrics through a new mind. 'Mine eyes dazzle, she died so young...' He ran a finger down the page, his green eyes narrowed in thought, curious about Castiel's loneliness. He looked out the window into the dark night, unsure of what to do with the roiling emotions he had gleaned from the passage. Snapping the journal closed, Dean made up his mind. He turned, crossing to his dresser where his camera waited for him.


	7. It's Only Human

He walked swiftly along a familiar street past darkened warehouses. Several bonfires lined the lane, illuminating rows of prone bodies, cardboard shelters and empty bottles. The drunks looked up at him with dead eyes.

Dean went deeper into the labyrinth of alleys, the night getting darker around him with every step. In the distance, he could see a blue light and could make out figures moving through the fog. He slowed along a wall in the shadows, trying to get a better look.

SMASH!

A bottle broke and Dean startled, quickening his pace. He ran straight into a bulky figure and was primed to defend himself when the moonlight slit through the clouds and he stopped. It was just a homeless drunk, scared, who quickly scuttled off into the night. Dean pressed his back against the wall, breathing deeply to calm his nerves.

When his heart rate settled, he continued around the corner. From the shadows, he watched a group of figures knocking on the solitary door in the wall up ahead, with the dull blue light mounted above. The slot in the door slid open and a moment later, the figures vanished inside.

Another moment and two couples approach, dressed in black. Dean took a breath, and fell into step behind them. One knocked on the door and a face peered out at the group. Stepping back, the door opened. Dean followed the couples in and the door shut behind him.

Dean would describe the music inside the club as part blues, part Kurt Weil, and part Gothic, dark and ominous. It was as if the pianist knew exactly the sort of trouble Dean had gotten himself into. The bar took up the entire east wall and was made entirely of elaborately-carved Chinese dragons. A single TV set showing a silent Vampire Castiel video was mounted incongruously in a high corner over the bar.

  
Couples danced cheek to cheek, rotating like figures on a music box. Another couple was kissing, hot and heavy in the corner. Dean simply stared at the patrons. Many of the faces were unnaturally pale, gaunt, their eyes shining with a strange, reflective light. Dean  
moved through the tables, passing a yuppie-type mortal who was sitting with a vampire girl he had obviously just met.

"Wow. This is the coolest after hours club ever. You sure you don't want a drink?" the yuppie was saying.

The girl stroked one finger down his face, "Soon."

She smiled, glancing up at Dean as he passed. He looked away quickly, moving on and looking to the other patrons. The pianist watched as he passed by. The couple necking in the corner began to get even more aroused. A mortal girl sipped on her drink while her lover kissed her shoulder, up to her throat.

As Dean approached the bar where three outrageously dressed punks were slouched, staring up at Castiel on the TV, he caught a few words of their conversation.

"Every coven's going..."

Unseen by Dean, another man, his face hidden by a hood, sat in the far corner of the bar, extremely interested by what the punks were saying.

A young girl dressed in heavy Goth gear sat down at the bar. One of the punks turned and smiled insincerely at her as she stared up at Castiel on the TV. Obviously getting a chill, the girl took her drink and moved back into the crowd as punk guy looked after her with murderous eyes.

Dean reached the punks and they all fell silent when he paused at the bar. He turned, staring at the necking couple and caught a brief glimpse of the tiny trickle of blood on the girl's neck as she swooned. He blinked and caught an even briefer glimpse as her lover came up for air, his lips and teeth shiny with blood.

Dean didn't realize he was staring until his thoughts were interrupted. "Come here often?"

He turned to see one of the punk girls leaning towards him, leering at him. Dean knee he was attractive, and was used to attention from girls in bars, but he'd never been stared at like that before' like he was dinner.

"Sure, all the time" he replied easily.

The girl reached over and pulled down his collar to check his neck. She smirked, "Don't see any marks."

Dean raised an eyebrow, covering quickly, "You haven't seen the rest of my body."

The girl grinned, "Is that an invitation?"

Dean eyes flicked to the side as he found himself surrounded by the other three punks. He shook his head, pulse picking up.

The girl pressed into him, "So, where's your host?"

Host? Dean thought quickly, searching for an answer.

"My host... oh, he's here somewhere."

The girl's pierced eyebrow went up at the pronoun but she didn't comment. Dean peered into the darkness, as if he were looking for someone, while he started trying to move bit by bit towards the door. He found himself blocked by the larger of the punks.

"Your host. What's his name?"

Dean glanced around, searching for an alternative way out of this. Pale faces and pale eyes stared at him, expecting an answer, so he gave the first one he could, "Gabriel."

The hooded figure leaned forward, studying the mortal intensely, suddenly fascinated.

The girl shook her head, "Sorry. Don't know the guy."

The punks laughed but Dean didn’t miss a beat, "You wouldn't. He's an Ancient"

The big guy chuckled, "There aren't any ancients left. They all turned to dust."

"That's crap. Gabriel's around here somewhere." Dean again tried to head for the door, but the girl appeared in front of him. He glared at her, masking his fear, "You really should meet him."

"And why is that?"

Dean watched the other punks continue to close in on him. As he spoke, he kept edging closer to the door.

"Because...he knows it all... he asks the big questions. Like, how are you going to get through eternity? It's easier for us humans. Life is brief, but for you..."

He was almost to the door, so he was stalling. His pursuers’ white faces gleamed menacingly as they closed in.

"I mean... what can you really do with immortality besides just slip from one day to the next, trapped in a void of nothing, relieved only by your next victim? How do you not give and just wither away from boredom, hopelessness?"

The vampires paused, staring at him, as his words sunk in. The hooded figure leaned further forward and stared at Dean, amazed.

Dean glanced quickly at the door. It was just a few feet away.

"You know, it's like they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same. For you  
that's forever, right?"

All around him, patrons were turning to look. The punks stared at him, eyes narrowing. Dean was just inches from the door. The girl’s eyes narrowed, her confusion turning to anger. "You know, you're no fun."

She bared her fangs and Dean bolted.

He hurried up the alley, breaking into a run, but skidded to a halt as the three vampires landed in front of him, beside him, behind him. His heart was racing, but he stood his ground, refusing to show his fear. They closed in, smiling.

The female ran her hand up and down his arm, "Now this isn't gonna hurt. You might even enjoy it."

Dean cursed as he started shaking involuntarily. They grinned and the girl picked him up by the throat, his legs kicking in the air.

Suddenly, the three turned and hissed like cats. Dean hit the flagstones hard with a grunt as the girl dropped him. He sucked in a breathe, looking up as the vampires were one by one hurled from of the alley by an unseen force.

Dean was alone. He turned, slightly woozy, shaking with adrenaline and found himself face to face with...

Castiel.

Dean's eyes widened, entirely stunned. The vampire just stared at him, his head cocked slightly, eyes narrowed. He was studying Dean with an intensity that suggested he was taking note of everything: the hard lines of his torso, his short, dirty blonde hair, the flush of his high cheekbones, his pulsing jugular.

Dean stared into the man’s entrancing blue eyes, trying to pull himself together. Castiel’s eyes roved back up to Dean’s face and their gazes locked, the air suddenly electric.

Dean swallowed, "You saved me."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps...You know Gabriel?"

Dean noticed his bag sitting on the ground by Castiel’s left foot. It had been cast aside by the punks and Castiel's journal was sticking out. Dean glanced at the vampire, praying he wouldn't see it. He stepped away, and Castiel followed, stepping past Dean’s bag.

"I know a lot of things," Dean responded.

Castiel simply gazed at him. Moving closer, he breathed him in, making Dean flush slightly. The vampire smiled, "Not how to stay alive apparently."

Dean grinned, posturing, "Well I guess we've got that in common. Although I think I might have an unfair advantage."

Both dark eyebrows went up at that, "Well, I could fix that."

Castiel circled him slowly, like a cat trying to decide to kill or keep playing with the mouse. Dean was still shaking, still running off adrenaline and he felt pretty good. Evidently deciding to enjoy the game, Castiel smiled slowly, moving closer, and Dean couldn't help it, he blurted out, "'Mine eyes dazzle, she died so young.' It's about the girl with the violin, isn't it?"

That stopped Castiel in his tracks. He stared at Dean, surprise written all over his handsome face. Recovering quickly, he narrowed his eyes, regarding the blonde man anew. "Is it? And what else do you think you know?"

"I think you're a lot like Gabriel, Castiel," he continued.

Castiel’s eyes flashed, "Am I? Tell me all about it."

Dean swallowed, "You're both artists. He's a painter. You're a singer."

As he spoke, Castiel stepped into Dean’s personal space and guided him over to a pile of milk crates. Some beer bottles had been shattered on the top of one and Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and guided it downward, closer to the shattered glass.

"Is that so? What I do is art, is it?"

Dean gulped, finding himself pressed firmly against the crates by a hard body. "Yes. From nothing you try to create something beautiful…" He tensed as his hand got closer and closer to the broken glass, "…out of the cold, dark wasteland of eternity."

The vampire stared at him, the words oddly familiar, and scraped the mortwl’s finger slowly across a large shard of glass. Dean sucked in a breath at the brief flash of pain.

Castiel cocked his head and looked at the drops of blood that appeared, glistening on Dean's finger.

"Something beautiful," he repeated softly.

Dean spoke fast, "But Gabriel isn't a rebel. You're different in that way. You don't want to hide, follow the laws, concealed in the shadows like some insect. You still want to walk with the living, don't you?"

Castiel looked back up into the green eyes, slowly bringing the bleeding finger toward his mouth, "Well, I'm not hiding now, am I?"

As his bleeding thumb got closer and closer to his mouth, Dean found himself entranced. "No, but the only time you're not really alone is when you kill. But you can't help it, it's not your fault. He made you this way."

His blood was on Castiel’s lips. He shook his dark head, "Ah. Poor, poor me."

Their eyes bored into each other. The vampire's gaze flicked from Dean's flushed cheeks, to the cold sweat on his forehead, still slightly stunned by his remarkable, if foolhardy daring. The green eyes looked straight into his without even a flicker as he brought the bleeding finger into his mouth.

Castiel's mouth watered as he tasted the mortality, the fragility for a brief second, listening to Dean’s blood. There was something there that surprised him as he watched the mortal man. He felt...desire. Then the man’s blood spoke to him and Castiel's eyes dropped to the bag. He saw the journal, his journal, and it all fell into place. His lip curled in anger and he shoved Dean away, stepping back and wiping his mouth. The mood changed.

"Well, Hunter, you're certainly a very clever librarian, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged. Castiel turned from him, laughing darkly, and shook his head. "How sad, you people always trying to know the unknowable. So, was it a good read? My diary."

Dean nodded slowly and Castiel shook his head again.

"Hunters have been following me for years. I've never known one to be so brave. Or is it just foolish?"

Dean flushed, "I'm only an apprentice."

He was waved off, dismissed, "Go. I'm through with you. Your kind never satisfy my thirst."

He turned, walking away. Dean let out a sigh, staring after him. He waited a beat before calling out, "Does anything?"

The vampire's gait stalled for a second but he kept walking. Dean hesitated, but called out again, "I mean, what's the point of coming into the light if not to have someone really know you?"

The vampire kept walking so Dean took one last chance, "You want someone to see you're real, don't you, Cas? Don't you? Well, here I am!"

Suddenly Castiel spun, staring daggers at the mortal man who was risking everything. The vampire was suddenly right in front of him and Dean sucked in a breath. Castiel grabbed him, pulled him close, tight, hard. He could so easily snap his neck and be done with it.

"You better stick to your books, Hunter. Because you have it all wrong. I love this. I delight in it. The dark, dreary world I went to sleep in has burnt itself out and has been replaced by the 20th Century. Can you imagine my joy at waking up to discover such a world? It has outdistanced my wildest dreams. I scream of good and evil, and mortals stand and cheer. I adore being back in action, every moment, every single drop of it! Now consider yourself exceedingly lucky and go!"

Castiel pushed him away again and Dean grunted, disarmed by the vampire's physical strength. He retrieved his bag and started to walk but as he reached the end of the alley, he paused, thinking of something else. Smirking, he turned back, daring one more, "Castiel!"

The vampire turned back, astonished.

Dean smirked, gaining courage from the vampire's amazement, "There's something you left out of your diary."

"What?"

Dean stared right into his eyes, "You kept her violin, didn't you?"

A beat, then Castiel shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of what he was hearing. Dean was undaunted. He shrugged, "Hey, it's okay. I understand... After all, it's only human."

Castiel's froze and Dean was struck suddenly that this was indeed not a human man; no human could stop moving so entirely, so completely. Their eyes bored into each other again, electricity crackling between them. Then Castiel hissed, the inhuman sound filling the alley, and he lunged, fangs bared.

Dean yelped, turning to run and finding himself suddenly in the midst of traffic on a busy street.

Dean exhaled, "Jesus Christ."

He stood there a moment, heart pounding, exhilarated and amazed to be alive. Then it sunk in. He was alive, Castiel let him go. He glanced back at the alley, but the vampire was gone.

He brought his finger to his mouth, slowly sucking it in, tasting the remnants of his own blood. A shiver coursed down his spine, filling him with with energy and...desire.

Across the street, Castiel stood, silent and hidden in the shadows, watching the human. He took in the mortal’s beauty, his bright eyes, his daring, his mortal passion. This man affected him. Castiel cocked his head and watched as Dean turned and walked away.


	8. Hungry

A few nights later, two young groupies walked through the lavish palace that was Castiel's home. One, a petite blonde, whispered to her friend, “I heard that Castiel keeps all these girls in his wine cellars, and it's really nice, and they give you food and cable and weed.”

Her friend, a taller girl with long dark hair, scoffed, "Oh, please."

The blonde nodded. "That's what I heard. But you have to let him suck you on your neck whenever he wants. Doesn't sound too bad.”

The brunette grinned, "We've done worse."

"Damn straight... Hey, do you remember that cute guy at the Kid Rock concert? The one  
behind the bathroom," the blonde giggled.

"Oh yeah. Let me think... his first name was Blow. And his second name was Me, I think."

They cracked up.

~~

Up in his chambers, Castiel entered his bedroom. Behind him, his dressing room stretched off into the distance, rows of beautiful suits made from the finest wools and silks. The gradation of colours was spectacular. Peering out at the near-dawn light, a look of loneliness clouded his face.

He crossed to the closet and opened a panel to reveal a safe. Staring at it a moment, he punched in the code. It swung open to reveal an object wrapped carefully in black velvet. He unwrapped it delicately. It was the ancient violin.

"Clever, clever librarian," he murmured softly.

He put the violin back, closing the safe door. He shook his head, trying to laugh it off, but a shadow remained on his face. Castiel heard a gasp, and turned, finding Roger just entering. 

The man was flustered, "I didn't see you come in."

"No, Roger, you wouldn't have."

Roger nodded absently, "So this house is fine I assume. To your liking?"

Castiel's lip curled up slightly in amusement, "Yes. For the moment."

"We'll be here for what? A week you think?"

The vampire cocked his head and watched the middling man. "Well... I wouldn't unpack if I were you."

Roger sighed, "Right... the... girls you asked for. They're in the guest wing."

Castiel looked to the door, pensive, "Ah. Yes."

"Do you want me to take them home later?"

Castiel smiled at the clumsy attempt to protect the girls. "No, thank you, Roger. I'll make sure they're taken care of."

Roger nodded, trying to hide his nervousness. Castiel smiled, waving him off with a hand.

In the lavishly decorated guest wing, the two girls were dreamy, floating with the effect of the  
joint they were smoking. Castiel strode in and approached them slowly. Looking up, they smiled childishly at their host before falling about laughing.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, "I don't think we've met."

The brunette controlled her giggles enough to respond, "Oh my God... It's really you, isn't it?"

The blonde bowed low, "We want to be your slaves."

Castiel smiled, "Of course you do."

The blonde offered him the joint, "Want some?"

He shook his head, watching her carefully.

"Want me?"

Circling the couches, he just smiled.

The brunette tried again, "You hungry?"

Still circling, "I'm always hungry,” he replied.

"We've got the munchies? You got any food?"

"Vampires don't eat... food."

The girls laughed and Castiel chuckled dangerously.

The blonde wasn't deterred, "You hungry for something else?"

She opened her legs provocatively. Pacing across the room, he stood before the girls. He curled his finger around a lock of the brunette's hair when a shadow crossed his face, "Mine eyes dazzle, she died so young."

The girls looked at each other, confused. "Huh?"

He sighed, "It's a very old poem of mine."

Losing interest, Castiel walked away and dropped himself onto a couch. With a clap of his hands, the television flicked on. He sat silently watching one of his video clips, ignoring his company.

The girls glanced at each other. Then, giggling, crawled over toward him. The brunette slid her hand slowly up his leg. "C'mon, don't you want to have some fun?"

She reached for his belt but he recoiled at the touch and slid gracefully off the couch onto the floor. "Don't do that."

The brunette was delighted, "Are you ticklish?" she giggled.

"I'm very ticklish," he deadpanned.

The blonde giggled as well, "Hey, you ever been tickled by four hands at once? Can you take both us, Castiel? What'd'ya think?"

At once they started after him on all fours. He watched them, torn, before he grinned predatorily and got down on all fours as well. He led them around the room in the childish game. "I don't know. Let's see."

They tried to tickle him but he stayed just a few feet ahead. The girls giggled as they pursued, Castiel crawling just ahead of them across the floor until he reached the wall. He placed both hands purposefully on the painted plaster and continued to climb up the wall. The girls kept giggling as they watched him ascend the wall like a spider, their drug-addled brains unable to sort through the information fast enough. Castiel reached the ceiling and kept crawling, upside-down across the ceiling. The girls’ giggles dissolved into half sobs as they arched their necks to watch their host crawling down the opposite wall. They sat, silently blinking as he reached the floor once again.

Only when he headed straight for them did they finally start to scream.


	9. We Are Alone

Dean walked quickly, his face bright, talking fast into his cell phone. "You're right, Bobby. The journal has everything."

He could almost hear the man's smile through the phone, "I knew you'd appreciate its scientific significance."

"Bobby, listen..." Dean licked his lips, "I'm going to Los Angeles for the concert."

He heard Bobby spit out whatever he was drinking, "What? You are not! I forbid it."

Dean snorted, “Bobby, you haven't been able to forbid me from doing anything since I was twelve." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I talked to him, Castiel. Look I'm sorry, but I have to see what's there with my own eyes. I'm onto something, I just don't know what and I have to find out."

On the other end of the line, Bobby held the phone, stunned. He leaned forward, speaking slowly, his face grave, "Dean, listen to me very, very carefully now. You are not seeing things clearly. Your emotions are clouding your brain, boy."

"It's not emotion. It's instinct. I'll see you when I have my answers." He hung up, but not before hearing Bobby scream Dean, wait! It wasn't exactly the first time he'd done something brash under the old man's care; he always got over it.

Throwing his duffle bag onto his back, Dean pushed through the crowds of Heathrow towards his boarding gate.

Once he had settled himself into his seat, Dean slid on his headphones, flicking through his iPhone until he found his favourite playlist. As the strong bass line opened the song, he opened the journal, and Castiel's smooth voice once again pulled him into the tale.

~~

  
_Yes, Gabriel had been impressed by my thirst for knowledge. But it turned out that there was such a thing as knowing too much. There were things Gabriel was not yet ready to teach me, and so, he and I eventually parted ways._

_I stood alone in my bedroom, once again attempting unsuccessfully to lose myself in the playing of the violin. As my frustration built, my playing picked up speed, the bow bending across the strings with a maestro's speed and precision._

_Suddenly, the bow flew out of my hand and slid across the floor, jamming itself under an old bookcase. I came out of my spell, walked across the room to the bookcase, and bent down to retrieve the bow from underneath. Having difficulty, I pushed back an old rug on the floor and it was then that I saw something._

_Carved into one of the floorboards was an Egyptian eye with a hole dug out of its iris. Stepping close, I realized I was standing on a manhole. I thought for a moment before poking my finger through the hole of the Egyptian eye and lifting the lid to reveal a steep set of steps leading down into the villa's basement._

_"Gabriel?"_

_No answer. I looked around, wondering what to do. Taking a candelabra off the table, I ventured down the stairs, peering into the darkness._

_I negotiated the circling flight of stone steps, winding my way into the lowest bowels of the villa, still carrying my violin._

_I eventually found myself facing a steeply descending passageway that stretched into darkness. I tested the stones ahead with caution. Suddenly, the sconces along the passageway came to life. In quick succession, they flared up and burnt with an unnatural intensity. Struck with curiosity and wonder, I put down my candelabra and ventured forth._

_There was an open foyer leading to two great wooden doors, held firm by a tree-sized carved wooden bolt that bared the doors shut. Seemingly possessed of the same spirit as the sconces, the bolt flew up and splintered with a shrieking crack. The doors flew open, revealing a bright light from within. I was apprehensive, but beyond curious so I continued towards the open doorway._

_I entered, squinting through the bright light that came from the scores of burning sconces. At the far end of the sanctuary I could make out the shape of two statues, an Egyptian man and woman sitting on thrones, staring straight at me. Stepping closer, my eyes widened at the sight of their clothes, the most valuable Egyptian finery; bracelets of gold, headdresses of incredible gems, clothes of silk. Staring up into their faces, I was struck with a realization:_

__

_"They're alive."_

_I was drawn to the woman, her form and beauty exquisite even in its absolute stillness. As if the statue had spoken aloud and asked, I held out my violin, "Would you like me to play for you?"_

_Her eyes still boring into me, I smiled, raised his violin and began to play._

_The song of the violin echoed around the walls as I played with increasing abandon. The statues sat, frozen. I played and played, lost in the music. I threw a glance up at the throne and stopped. The woman was moving. Slowly, her eyelids pulled back to reveal pale green eyes._

_I stared in amazement as her arm rose up, her wrist extended outward towards me. The pulse of a heartbeat started in my ears and I moved toward her as if beckoned. A green vein appeared beneath the marble surface of her skin, pulsing as the blood coursed through. The heartbeat pounded louder, deeper. The sound filled my head as I was drawn closer to her wrist. Lowering myself, as if genuflecting, I bent closer to the vein, staring at it as if it were the very font of life before me._

_Gabriel sat under the stars, painting, when his hand began to tremble. Suddenly, he dropped his brush, startled by the unexpected warning that passed through him. He stood bolt upright as a frightening gust of wind swept across him._

_I sunk my teeth into the woman's vein, drawing in the unimaginable font. It was like ice and fire at once as I drank, the blood making me feel more alive than I had ever felt. A burst of image and colour accompanied the flavour, flooding into me: Ancient Egypt, power, supremacy, slavery, the bright burning sun, red lips, blood spurting like a fountain... The images poured faster and faster until I knew no more._

_I woke to a very quiet, hesitant question, "Castiel?"_

_My eyes bulged open in the grip of incredible sensation and my lips twisted into the most wicked of smiles. My chest heaved upward, pulling my body with it, only to be jerked back by restraints that held me to the bed._

_I looked desperately around until my gaze lit upon my captor, "More!"_

_Gabriel smiled sadly, "I don't think so, my little lord."_

_I writhed with a physical delight that was almost painful. I realized I was shackled to the bed with manacles and chains so I struggled against them, instantly furious._

_"Let me go!"_

_Gabriel shook his head, "No. You've drunk the purest blood. Seen the oldest of things; far too much for one as young as you. You've been unconscious for days."_

_I squirmed, panting, "God, her blood is like liquid fire. Who are they?"_

_My maker sighed and walked around to my other side. "She... she is your mother, my mother... Abaddon, the Queen of all who are damned. And he is her King."_

_I lunged at Gabriel and snapped my teeth, "Release me!"_

_I struggled with all my might and one of my manacles split, releasing a leg. Gabriel stared, surprised. "She made you quite powerful," he said, withdrawing a sabre from its sheath. "Don't make me use this."_

_I still struggled and the manacles strained, "Gabriel, please, just one more time. I felt the sun. The light, Gabriel, the light!"_

_Suddenly the knife was pressed to my throat._

_"Castiel, listen to me! I have watched over Abaddon and her King for 2000 years! They must never awaken!"_

_I stared up at him, uncomprehending._

_He sighed again and pulled the blade away from my skin. "Abaddon and her King nearly drank this earth dry when they ruled over Egypt. They drank until they lost their will to drink. They became living statues. And yet Abaddon still sustains the life force of all vampires. It is believed what happens to her, happens to all of us."_

_I looked up at him, taking it in but failing to care. It was like the blood I had taken was a living being within me, controlling and manipulating me to its will. Gabriel moved slowly away. "If she were ever to rise, she would again desiccate the earth! She has no respect for anything except the taste of blood. Immortal and human alike."_

_I felt the blood surge and I roared and struggled against my binds. The voice that spoke was not my own, "You'll not stop me."_

_Gabriel heard it as well and stared at me, shocked, "I hear her blood in your voice... In all the years I've cared for them, not once have they moved."_

_I cackled, "Until tonight. And she chose me! Me! Never you! You'll not stop me!"_

_Gabriel moved at super-speed, grabbed me by the neck, and pinned me down, "You are part of a great coven! You take responsibility for your kind!"_

_I didn't care, "I must have more!" I snarled._

_Suddenly, I regained some control and looked up at Gabriel, lost, my mind intoxicated with Abaddon's blood. Gabriel stepped back. Looking at me, his fledgling, with great sadness, anger, disappointment. "I chose you for your bravery, but I was wrong. You know only selfishness. I can no longer trust you. It gives me no pleasure to look upon what I have created."_

_Gabriel turned his back on me and I did nothing but stare after him._

_I awoke as the last warm colours of the sunset vanished into the blue of night. My manacles had been removed. I stretched and shook my head, clearing it of the terrible dream, but something caused me to stop. Something had changed._

_Gabriel's paints were gone. Some of his paintings remained, but his easel and paint boxes were removed, leaving splattered outlines on the faded marble floor._

_"Gabriel!" I called out, desperate for the dream not to have been real._

_No response._

_I ran down the secret staircase, dark except for the candelabra in my hand and threw open the doors to find Abaddon and her King gone, as were the thrones and the royal paraphernalia._

_I sank to my knees, dropping the candelabra and entrenching myself in darkness, "Gabriel! Please!"_

_Many times since, I have called to Gabriel. I have howled into the night in loneliness and pain. I scream into the darkness, filled with despair and grief._

_But there is never an answer... just the endless procession of days, months, years... My teacher left me to my darkest lesson, that in the end, we are alone._

  
~~

Dean closed the journal, his eyes wide with the new knowledge. He sat for a long time, speechless, staring out the plane window into the vast, black night.


	10. Said the Vampire to His Son

Castiel glided through an open door and calmly touched ground. He emptied his pockets out on a coffee table before dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief and tossing it away, leaving fresh bloodstains on the cloth. A look of loneliness clouded his face for an instant before his eyes steeled and he turned, entered his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

Much later, Castiel lay ‘sleeping’, or as close to it as he ever got. His figure lay, eyes closed, his face almost peaceful. A pair of top-quality headphones allowed Chris Cornell’s voice to trickled into his semi-sleep state.

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright and looked around the room. He found nothing there. His instincts were primed and pulsing n as he scanned the room with all his senses. For the longest time, he couldn't pinpoint what it was that had woken him so violently. Finally, to his surprise, he spotted the intrusion: a painting leaning against a wall, turned front-side-over.

Pulling off his headphones, he slipped out of bed and went over with trepidation. He turned the painting over and smiled. It was a portrait of himself as a rocker and the hand and style were unmistakable.

"Gabriel," he whispered.

He burst out the doors of his bedroom and stepped to the landing to look down into the living room. Sure enough, his maker sat on the couch, dressed in high-waisted slacks and a six-button coat with tails. He was studying a Rolling Stone magazine that featured Castiel on the cover.

"Castiel."

Gabriel looked up with glittering smile and two regarded each other for a long moment. Castiel was fighting conflicting emotions but after a time, he let a guarded smile of his own play over his face.

Gabriel spoke first, "It is good to see you, Castiel."

Castiel inclined his head, "And you. Still wearing the old fashions, I see."

"Old habits die hard."

"How did you manage to slip through the 1950s in that style?"

Gabriel shrugged, "I slept."

"I don't think you missed much," Castiel sat down.

"Elvis."

The younger nodded, "Elvis, yes."

Gabriel held up the Rolling Stone. "You're bigger than he was now."

Castiel scoffed. "I'd say a few pounds lighter. Though, if you ever catch me wearing a white jumpsuit, you have my permission to slice off my head."

"...If someone doesn't get to you first."

Castiel grinned, accepting and ignoring Gabriel's disapproval. "Live and let live."

Gabriel sighed, "If it were only so simple, my son."

Castiel hesitated, wary of his maker's tone, "How did you find me?"

"You forget. We ancients have powers no ordinary vampires possess. And I know you. I remembered how you admired the medieval fortresses in the hilltowns of Lyon." He gestured to house, "All you're missing is the moat and the cannons, which you may need."

Castiel didn't want to hear it. He rolled his eyes, standing and moving off, gesturing for Gabriel to follow. "Come along, old man, let me show you what it means to live in the light."

~~~

They found themselves perched on a giant billboard advertising Castiel's concert. Down below, Sunset Strip was filled with drunks, club hoppers, honking cars; it was an enormous traffic jam of metal and flesh.

Gabriel snorted, "Impressive. Reminds me of mad old Druids running around chanting in the forest. Very primitive stuff,” he added sarcastically,

Castiel waved at the crowd, "Out there. My fans. Thousands and thousands. They worship me. Millions of arms reach out to embrace, beg me to come into their lives."

"It's what you've always wanted."

"With all my black little heart," Castiel grinned.

"Do you think of anyone but yourself?" his maker snapped.

"I only have myself, you taught me that," he replied, thinking nothing of it.

Gabriel grimaced, "It may be time to get ready for some company."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your music's woken a very old friend..."

Castiel looked at Gabriel, trying to understand.

Gabriel closed his eyes, "Can't you hear it? Or is the applause all you can hear now?"

The ancient became eerily still and as he did, a deep, somber tone began to vibrate. The ground rumbled and Castiel was taken aback, suddenly remembering the scope of Gabriel's power. He stared at the man, then closed his eyes as well.

All the sounds of the world faded away, revealing beneath the cacophony of mortals a deep pulse like the beating of a heart the size of a planet.

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and the sounds of the world rushed back in. Gabriel stared at him for a long moment, "Abaddon has risen. She has taken her King's blood. Absorbed his power. You've really done it this time."

Castiel stared at him, letting the knowledge sink in. He grinned, "Good! I'm glad she's risen! Let her come."

Gabriel released an exasperated breathe, "Don't you understand? You must stop this concert!"

Shaking his head, Castiel tutted, "200 years and the same broken record."

"No. Not the same! You've only known Abaddon dormant. She too will find you. She is choosing  
her moment. She has come to destroy you, Castiel. And in her wrath, she will devour everything that moves. Mortal and vampire alike."

Castiel smiled, "Well then, it's every vampire for himself. Just the kind of rules I like. The rules you taught me," he replied softly.

Gabriel was enraged, but he tried to control himself. Castiel simply stared at him, his expression empty, and spoke steadily, "Do you remember your first words to me, Gabriel? 'I am unknowable.'" He shook his head. "I'd rather not exist at all than have to live eternally as a ghost."

"And you're taking everyone with you, you fool! We were once mortals, too. It is our heritage  
we protect!" Gabriel yelled.

"Such reverence for mortals! Then you should have left me as one!" Castiel replied evenly, moving away from his maker.

"You're a monster," Gabriel spat.

Castiel shook his head and laughed darkly, "Said the vampire to his son."

With that, he turned, leapt off the billboard, and disappeared into the black night, leaving Gabriel standing alone.


	11. Abaddon

There were no mortals in sight at the Waverly Arms. Amongst the various vampires, a handsome male was talking to the same female who had attacked Dean.

A knock sounded and the doorman opened the hatch, peering out. A figure moved towards him, glowing, beautiful, majestic. The doorman was frightened, but mesmerized and he moved, as if under a spell, to unlatch the door and open it for the woman.

The barman looked up at the sound of the door slamming. He did a vicious double-take and watched in awe as the woman stepped in. Everyone in the bar turned and she smiled at all the undead staring at her, "Hello."

Her eyes swept the room, taking in every inch, searching. She seemed suddenly to register the Vampire Castiel video that was playing. She whirled around, gazing at the video intensely. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on Castiel, and she spoke as if to herself, "Hmmm... his scent is fading. He was here too long ago."

A man with short platinum blonde hair slid up next to her, "You like him, love?"

"He reminds me of someone I know," she replied, still staring at the TV.

"All he's gonna remind you of soon is a pile of bones. We're gonna dismember him. Bleed him dry."

She turned to him, taking him in, "Really? Is that what you're going to do?"

As if struck by a new idea, she smiled at him, and moved to the dance floor. She moved to Castiel's music, her eyes closed, swaying sensually, her hips gyrating. The dance was seductive, slow, her head thrown back. The other patrons turned, staring at her, mesmerized, aroused by her movements. They moved close to the dance floor, watching.

The woman opened her eyes, smiled at them, then turned to the blonde man and beckoned. He smiled back, happy to be chosen, and stepped to her. She danced a little farther away; a game. He laughed, playing along, and moved closer.

He heard a laugh and turned, but she had disappeared. He turned and found her behind him. He stared at her. Her hips were gyrating, her body slithering. A moan escaped from him and again he moved to her, reached for her. She laughed again.

He turned to find her dancing across the floor. His smile was not so friendly anymore and he stepped toward her, determined, but she moved behind him, her body pressed up tight against his. He smiled, shuddering with a rush of desire. All the other vampires watched, envious. Her lips brushed his neck, her hands ran up and down his body, pausing on his chest. He reached for her and she kissed him. On his face was nothing but pure pleasure.

"Then again, you could always do this."

She sank her fangs into his neck and at the same time, plunged her hand into his chest. The crunch of bone snapping, the squish of ripping flesh, and a loud sucking could be heard. A look of horror appeared on the blonde man's face.

The woman smiled. In her hand, she held his dripping heart. She brought it to her lips, sucking thirstily and the man gurgled. She sucked the heart to a dry husk before tossing it away. Turning back to him, she found his face frozen in a grotesque mask and laughed, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor.

She turned to face the rest of the horrified patrons who had begun to back away. Behind them, the door locked itself with a loud click.

Ignoring them, she swayed to the music, moving faster now, as if refreshed, "Turn up the music!"

The terrified barman quickly complied.

"Oh, I do love the 21st Century," she smiled to herself.

She turned to the terrified barman again, pulled him over the bar and attacked him as if she were just reaching for a snack. He flailed but was easily overwhelmed by her strength.

A girl jumped towards the woman, knife raised, but she just turned. Suddenly there was an explosion of flames and the girl screamed as she was consumed by fire.

All hell broke loose as the other patrons ran for the door. The lock wouldn't budge but it was too late anyway as the flames overwhelmed them. Through the fire, Abaddon smiled, sucking on someone's aorta like a straw. She dropped the body, her long tongue slowly licking her bloody, thirsty lips and strode out through the flames.

In a whispery, sing-song voice she called to the night, "Casti-el... come out, come out wherever you are.


	12. The Ancients

Gabriel stood in the hills by the Hollywood sign, looking down with a furrowed brow at Castiel's fortress-like mansion hidden in the canyon below. The wind blew through the trees and bushes around him. Gabriel turned, uneasy, and peered into the shadows cast by the brightly-lit sign.

He stared as a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Michael, the Ancients’ coven leader, his face hidden by a cloak.

"Gabriel, you've broken your oath. You were to watch over Abaddon and Azrael. You are a great disappointment to me."

Gabriel looked up to see all the Ancients now stepping from the shadows. Raphael, the desert healer in Egyptian dress along with Ariel, the dark-haired sensuous beauty in her sari, and Uriel, the scholar, in his Mesopotamian robes. Last, Mary stepped from her grand door. She was beautiful with long blonde hair, alabaster skin and bright green eyes.

Gabriel inclined his head, "Ariel, Uriel, it's been a long time. Raphael, Mary, to what do I owe this honour?"

Raphael crossed to the edge, peering menacingly into the distance at Castiel's house. "You have been summoned because of your errant child."

Ariel gave a deep, sexy laugh, "He's quite the devil, isn't he?"

"His music mocks us, Ariel!" Uriel growled.

Ariel shrugged, "It moves my blood."

Uriel narrowed his eyes at the Indian beauty, "Keep your amorous thoughts to yourself. His music is a threat to all vampires. We will let the covens dismember him at his concert."

Michael nodded, "Yes. It will set an example."

Gabriel attempted reason on his child's behalf, “I don't see how this solves things. This isn't thought through."

Raphael sighed, "Gabriel, we understand your affection for Castiel, but your duty is to us."

He gazed again down at Castiel's house with a threatening glance before turning to Gabriel with a look of warning. 

"We could always get rid of him right now."

Michael shook his head, "No. We will contact the covens. Let them know we condone the slaying. It will be better for all to see."

Gabriel, with a tortured expression, looked at Michael. 

Mary spoke up for the first time, "Wait. Never mind Castiel! We have greater problems."

Gabriel was relieved, "Mary is right. It is Abaddon we face now."

Ariel’s expression was joyous, "Is it true, Mary? Has our Queen really risen!"

"Don't be so happy, Ariel. I knew Abaddon when she walked this earth. I was her slave. I am now her enemy. I know what she is capable of."

"Yes. We've all felt her presence, even as she hides from us," Uriel agreed. The others nodded, acknowledging the truth of this. "What does she want now?"

Mary's look was dark, "She knows only one thing. Taking pleasure in destroying life. She is already killing the young ones to build her strength."

"She sucked the life out of her King like a praying mantis. I sense she is getting closer," Gabriel added.

The Ancients looked to each other, taking this in. Ariel looked around, suddenly nervous.

"She has come to destroy Castiel, but he will only whet her thirst more. If we act together, we have a chance to destroy her."

They all looked at Mary, astonished.

"We must destroy her immediately! If she is not stopped, I'm afraid of what will happen to the entire mortal world," she continued.

Michael was not convinced, "But can she be destroyed? I am left to bear the scars of the last attempt on her life. She was dragged into the sun. She survived. But we almost didn't." Removing his hood, he barred his terribly-burned face to the others. They all stared at him. 

Gabriel conceded, "What happens to our Queen happens to us. If Abaddon dies, we die as well."

"Then so be it! We must take that chance," Mary looked at each of them intensely, as the meaning of her words sank in. "We must destroy Abaddon. For the sake of humanity! We must find her. Now!"

"But perhaps she has come to kill Castiel and then will go back to her slumber. That is our only hope," Uriel tried.

Ariel liked this, "Yes. That's right. She and the covens will take care of that brat. We must go to the concert and pay our respects to our great Queen."

Mary scoffed, "How? With your own throat! You've all been asleep too long! You're still dreaming."

Gabriel stepped up beside Mary, "Mary speaks the truth. It is our only hope."

Gabriel then went and stood beside Mary and Raphael. The others gazed at the three standing together now.

Michael was still not convinced, "No. Uriel is right. We will go to the concert and first see what she does. There may be no need for action."

Ariel and Uriel nodded their assent. The two groups faced each other. Mary looked at their faces, and spit out her next words.

"Then you go to the concert and you shall see!" She shook her head. "And I thought the Ancients became wise with their years."

As the other Ancients continued to bicker, Gabriel looked again down to Castiel's house, anguish on his face.


	13. Knowing You

Back at Castiel's house loud, intense music played as the band rehearsed. Castiel created a fantastic melody around the beat. He let the note trail off, eyes closed, smiling, the reverb still ringing in the room. As he finished, he turned to the window. In the Hollywood Hills outside, dogs howled across the canyons like wolves.

Castiel crossed to the huge glass doors and stepped into the night, sighing deeply as he stared out into the velvet dark.

As Carly and the band continued to play, oblivious to their singer’s distress, the wolflike howls in the night got louder but beneath it all, a deep pulse beat. The song came to an end and Castiel turned, looking back at the band through the window, at their excitement. He grit his teeth and went back inside.

Roger stood there, a nervous look on his face. "The...two you asked for, Sir. They're here, in the guest wing."

Castiel smiled at Roger's discomfort, "Ah. Yes."

Roger shuffled, "I was uh... just gonna go catch a movie at the Chinese. I don't suppose you'd all want to..."

Castiel smiled at the clumsy attempt to protect his guests. "No, thank you, Roger. We'll entertain ourselves."

They walked into the guest room and the young groupie giggled nervously, "Oh my God, it's him! It's really him."

She turned in paroxysm of excitement to the guy next to her. Castiel stared, taken aback. Dean, dressed in dark jeans, a black AC/DC shirt under a studded leather jacket and combat boots. In the dark of their previous encounter, Castiel hadn't noticed the intricate tattoo that ran up Dean’s neck and disappeared into his shirt. Fake plugs were screwed into his ears but his lip and eyebrow both held real spiked rings. His green eyes were lined with kohl, making the jade all the more entrancing, and his short cropped hair had been dyed slightly red. He grinned at Castiel, cocking an eyebrow brazenly.

The vampire's eyes never left Dean's as he asked, "Perhaps you would like a tour of the place... first."

The girl was beside herself, "Oh yeah, wow, we'd love that."

Castiel turned to his manager, "Roger... would you be so kind?"

Surprised and relieved, Roger nodded, "Sure. Right this way."

As they started off, Castiel put up his hand, pointing to Dean. "No Roger. Not that one. Leave him to me..."

The girl pouted, disappointed, but went out with Roger. Castiel turned to Dean, considering him for a long enough moment that the human’s smile dimmed just a little, "You must be very keen to die."

Dean’s grin regained its brightness.

Castiel rolled his eyes, "The Hunters have become quite stealthy. I didn't know infiltration was quite their style."

"It's not. I came on my own."

Castiel stared at him, taking him in. "How did you find me?"

"I've been tracking your manager for days," Dean gestured to his outfit, "then I figured you simply had to look the part and he'd do the rest.”

"Clever Hunter. You should know, based on all your research, that groupies don't ever find  
their way out of here again."

Dean’s eyes narrowed, "I'm not a groupie."

Castiel eyes flicked to Dean's pulsing jugular. He stepped closer. "Then why are you following me? What do you want?"

"Depends, are you granting wishes?" Dean smirked, playing alone.

Castiel smiled, a deadly, sinister thing, "Last wishes. What's yours?"

"Show me what it's like to be you. That's my last wish. My only wish. Grant it."

Castiel simply stared, feeling some strange connection with this mortal man; he found himself drawn to him. He struggled, trying to fight against the pull that seemed to gravitate him toward the man. He shook his head, turning away, "I don't have time for this."

"All a vampire has is time."

"Not this one."

Dean's voice was soft, "Right. The covens are coming. I understand, you know. You have to be yourself, no matter what." He stepped forward, "But how are you planning on spending your last night on Earth, Castiel? Alone? As always?"

He took a slightly shaky breath, crossed to the vampire and stood very close, staring into his eyes. Castiel stared at him, continuously amazed. He breathed in Dean’s scent, his hair, his skin, before he realized the man was speaking again.

"Don't kill me yet. Let's spend our last nights together. Share it with me. Show me what it's like."

Castiel glared at him, "You don't know what you're asking! I don't know what's in that Hunter’s head of yours, but it's not what you think."

Dean smirked, "That's right. You don't know what's in my head, Cas. Do you want to?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, "I'll know when I kill you."

The mortal simply tutted. "Gee, Cas, that's not very accommodating. How about I give you a preview. Coming attractions."

He crossed to him, standing close.

"I have this dream... memory...I'm not sure.” He shrugged, “I'm a kid and I'm living in this big house filled with vampires. Every night when I go to sleep, I pray for the same thing... you know what that is, Castiel?

The vampire didn't move, simply watched as the mortal leaned closer.

Dean smiled sadly, "I pray every night that I’ll have the dream again. Because in it I'm happy. The dream seems more real than my life.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I don't know how, but I feel like I know you, Cas. My life has always been one big mystery but you, you have the answers."

The vampire watched him, curious and frustrated, being taken in, but trying to resist. Dean moved even closer and stared down at him, taking in the softness of his skin, his penetrating gaze, the heat of his body.

"I can't go on pretending this life is real. I can't do it anymore. I'm like you Cas. We're meant to be the same."

Castiel broke his silence softly, "Are we? I seek the light. You seek the shadows."

Dean shook his head, “No. We're looking for exactly the same thing. You know it. Please. Show me."

Dean’s green eyes bored directly into Castiel’s blue ones and the vampire finally relented.

"Alright..."

Dean didn't even try to control the wide grin that spread across his face.

Castiel stood and leaned into Dean's space, sharing his air, "This may be painful for a mortal. You're still attached to your skin."

"I can take it."

The vampire wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist, "Close your eyes. Don't breathe."

His heart pounding, his eyes closed, Dean took one deep, hesitant breath before he and Cas were suddenly gone. With preternatural speed, Castiel whisked Dean through the night, flashing past trees and houses. Opening his eyes for a moment, Dean watched the world whiz past him before they came to a sudden halt.

Dean gasped, releasing his held breath as he found himself on Hollywood's highest peak, overlooking the city, which lay out before them like a glimmering blanket.

Looking out over the observatory's ledge, Dean laughed, intoxicated by the experience.

"Let’s do that again!"

Castiel smiled, impressed by the mortal's bravado, his trust. For a moment they laughed together. Then they looked at to the other, each feeling the current that coursed between them. Dean wanted to kiss him and Castiel knew it. He turned away.

"And now for my next trick."

He pulled out a knife, quickly slicing his arm open in the same fluid motion. Dean looked at the blood dripping down the pale arm and something stirred in him. Magically, the wound healed up and Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Did it hurt?"

Castiel nodded, "Yes. For just a moment. But as the pain is more intense for us, so is ecstasy."  
He cocked his head, "You see, we love our victims."

"Love? I thought it was about blood."

"No, although the taste is like nothing else; rich and sweet. Love is the essence of the dark gift. The connection is so much more satisfying, brief as it is, than anything else."

Castiel again became aware of Dean's pulsing jugular, the tanned flesh of his neck. He reached out, touching the expanse of skin, stroking it. Dean shivered under his touch, electrified, and leaned into it.

The vampire brushed his lips against his neck, running his hands down his arms. Dean closed his eyes, lost in the gentle rhythm of his voice.

"As you drink, you feel the heart weakening. It struggles even though there's no hope. You feel the life slipping away, the flash of those brief years. The taste of mortality you can no longer  
experience...and it is beautiful."

He pulled away sharply, turning his back on the mortal, "No 'relationship,' no commingling can ever reach the height of that experience."

But Dean stepped forward and Castiel turned back, staring at him. His green eyes burned with a fire that apparently would not be quenched. Castiel was vaguely aware of Dean’s hands moving as one button at a time, he opened his shirt down to his navel.

He didn't move as Dean removed a long, silver knife from his hip. The green eyes never wavered from blue as he brought the knife down to his skin and drew a line with the point across his chest. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, then blew it out as the long incision went from pink to red; the blood, like a hot spring, pouring over the brim and dripping down his chest.

Castiel flinched and broke their stare. He found himself once again sharing the mortal’s air. His eyes now locked on the crimson line, he accepted the gift, bending his head and lapping at the overspill before latching onto the wound itself. He pulled the blood from the wound until it stopped bleeding freely. His teeth itched to bury themselves in the soft, smooth flesh and take more but he pulled back, closed his eyes and came up to Dean's face, brushing his lips against his cheek. Dean shivered and groaned.

"Your blood..." Castiel’s voice was low, filled with blood and hunger.

Dean was dizzy, his body flooded with arousal. "Do you like it?" he managed to ask.

Castiel was almost lost, nosing into the mortal's neck. "Yes..." his entire body was thrumming with want as he stared at the soft, pulsing skin. He bared his fangs, scraping them lightly down Dean’s neck and the mortal shuddered, his hands coming up to clutch at Castiel’s back.

"Do it...Please...I want it..." Dean whispered, overcome.

Castiel broke. He couldn't help himself; not when a willing victim begged him so beautifully. He leaned in to Dean's neck...closer... closer...

"...I want you..."

Dean's whispered words sounded loudly in his head and Castiel’s instincts slammed suddenly to a halt. He flinched and shivered as he stopped his natural impulse before letting out a desperate cry and throwing Dean aside. The man stumbled and fell to one knee, catching himself with a hand on the railing, and looked up at the vampire, surprised. Castiel loomed over him, baring his fangs and hissing with anger.

"You want me," he hissed. "You want this? Then come!" He yanked Dean up by his arm, "I'll show you."

Inside Griffith Park, Castiel led Dean quickly and quietly through the trees, his iron grip still locked around Dean's forearm. He stopped, senses tuned and looked into the dark. Dean made a small noise as if to speak but Castiel raised a finger to his lips and pointed.

A couple moved across the meadow and sat on a park bench, the woman giggling drunkenly. Dean watched and frowned as he realized the man was a vampire. Castiel moved forward, pulling Dean along.

Taking the woman in his arms, they watched as the vampire bit into her neck. Castiel looked over to Dean who watched, fascinated. The man seemed to suddenly sense another's presence, since he stopped and turned to show his eyes shining like a cat’s in the dark. Castiel stepped into the halo of a street lamp and hissed. Sensing the other's power, the man hissed back, dropped the woman unceremoniously onto the bench, and was gone.

Dean turned to his companion to find that he had disappeared too. Spinning around, he saw Castiel now hovering over the swooning woman. Checking to see that the other vampire was indeed gone, Dean moved closer to the bench.

"Is she alright?"

Castiel looked up at him, curling his lip to reveal his deadly sharp fangs. Dean reflexively looked away.

But the vampire held out a hand, "Come closer, Dean. You wanted to see. You wanted to know."

Dean frowned, shaking his head, "Not this."

Castiel's expression turned cold as ice. He arched his back like a great cat, snarling and went in for the kill. The woman's body convulsed and Dean watched in horror as her hands clutched at Castiel, her back stiffening, until finally her body relaxed all at once in an obscene parody of orgasm.

Dean choked, backing away. Castiel raised his head and, wiping his mouth, turned back to Dean. "You see now? Are you ready? Now do you want it?"

He looked into the green eyes, finding himself somehow wanting the man to say yes. But the horror, the revulsion in Dean's face said it all.

Castiel steeled himself and snorted, "No. Of course you don't."

Dean was still backing away from him, something changed in his eyes; they were scared, wild with tumultuous emotions.

"Well, I didn't grant your final wish." Castiel shook his head, "But it was an impossible wish to begin with. You see, I am unknowable."

His eyes still as death, he turned away.

Dean recovered suddenly, pushing away the heavy blanket of horror and fear and snapping back to himself. "Cas! No. Wait!"

The vampire turned back to him suddenly, his hands clamped around his shoulders painfully. He yanked Dean into his arms and looked into his eyes, searching them carefully. Obviously not satisfied with what he found, he pursed his lips and shook his head.

"Good-bye, Hunter."

Dean closed his eyes, knowing his life was about to end, when the steel grip holding him in place was suddenly gone. He reached for his mouth, the ghost of a feeling lingering on his lips. He stared into the night, his mind whirling, when there was a swish and the sound of rushing air from behind him. He turned, startled, and backed away. For it was not Castiel standing there but another vampire, dark and unfamiliar. With great speed, the man glided toward him, enveloping Dean in his cloak to muffle his shout, and they were gone.


	14. Be With Your Own

Dean found himself waking in bed just as he always had in his dreams. He got up, trapped in the memory...was he dreaming now?

As in his dreams, he made his way down the long hall, passing an amazing array of medieval tapestries.

He stood wondering, eyes moving back and forth as he tried to sort through the rapid-fire thoughts when his gaze fell on the door at the end of the hall. Walking a little faster, he came toward it and peered through to glimpse an enormous mural on the far wall. Dominating the entire massive stone wall, it was a mural of names, a family tree stretching up onto the ceiling and down to the floor.

Dean was jolted suddenly into a memory.

_He was a little boy, walking beside the mural._

_"Why can't I stay with you?! Please, Aunt Mary!"_

_A blonde woman was looking down at him with a tortured expression on her beautiful face. "I don't want you to go, but you must."_

_A tear of blood trickled down her cheek._

_"Auntie, you're bleeding." Dean caught the tear with a finger and went to put it to his mouth when Mary violently grabbed his hand. Young Dean was frightened._

_"You must be with your own, my sweetest boy. I'll always be watching over you."_

_Dean's eyes filled with tears, "But I want to stay with you forever."_

He snapped back to the present as the same voice, gentle but familiar, sounded through the hall, "Forever is a very long time."

Dean looked up to see the blonde woman in the doorway at the end of the hall.

She smiled, "Hello, my prince."

"Aunt Mary?"

Dean rushed to her but as he approached, he drew up. He stopped, staring at his aunt's glowing eyes, the strange pallor of her skin.

"You're a...?"

Mary smiled sadly, "Yes. Oh, Dean, I've missed you so much, but mow you know why I had to keep this from you."

Dean simply stood there, soaking it in. Mary took his hands gently and his eyes widened, "Oh my God, this is why... I knew I was different. I knew..."

Mary interrupted him with a firm word.

"Come."

He followed her to the mural of the family tree where she stopped. She stared at it for a long moment, a strange emotion playing over her face, before speaking again.

"You are the last and most precious of my great family."

"Am I...?"

"No. You are not. I was once mortal, as well. My sister died before her child was even a year old. I took care of that child, and her children, and her children's children."

She pointed up to the huge family tree.

"This is our family, my way of coping with eternity. The labyrinth of life. The family teaches me the rhythms and passions of each age."

Her finger trailed down the main line to a name right a the bottom: "Dean Winchester". She turned to him. "You are my most prized light. You are what keeps me connected to the world of the living."

Dean stared at her, amazed, as she continued, "When your parents died I took you to India to take care of you."

Dean nodded, "But something happened there."

She sighed, "I stopped it from happening. And I will again."

Mary drew close, her gaze firm as she took his hands again. "Dean, you must stay away from Castiel. You must forget all about him."

Dean blinked at her, surprised. She smiled, "Yes, I know about your new friend. You think you love him, but it's not as you thought it would be."

Dean stared at Mary, surprised she understood so well. "I thought I was like him."

She nodded, "I know, but it is not who you are, not who you are meant to be. You have found that out now."

Dean sat down hard on a stone bench, confused. Mary smiled again, sadly, feeling Dean's inner turmoil.

"Cas all I can think about. I feel like I belong with him. Now I know why."

Mary sat down beside him, taking his hand again and speaking emphatically, "Dean, you must forget about him. You must trust me."

The young man looked up at the ancient woman, simply looking at her a long moment, "I missed you so much, Aunt Mary."

She smiled, warmly this time, "And I you."

Just then, the gloom of the pre-dawn's light began to illuminate the windows of the great hall. Mary sighed, "You will go home to London in the morning."

Dean held her gaze, "But this is my home. This is where I belong. Why do you want to get rid of me so quickly?"

Mary touched his face gently, "Now is not the time to be here."

The light was getting brighter. Mary stood. "You were seeking answers. Now you have found them. The family is who you are."

Mary pulled Dean to his feet, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Despite the coldness of her skin, Dean warmed to the embrace, closing his eyes, holding her tight. Then, beaten by the sun, Mary turned, exiting into the shadows before turning back, looking at Dean strangely.

"You will go home to London tomorrow."


	15. Death Valley Will Live Up to Its Name

Castiel stood by his bed, playing the ancient violin, bow twisted to hold a long mournful note. He held the strings, cutting off the sound, lost in his thoughts. A flash of the first morning light reflected off the ancient wood as he put the violin away. A tear of blood trickled down his cheek and his face was suddenly filled with sadness as he thought of what would never be. A word escaped from his lips, barely a whisper, "Dean."

He drew the curtains and shed his clothes, crawling into bed and curling around himself in his misery as the sun put his troubled mind to sleep.

  
~~

Dean moved down the hallway past portrait after portrait of vampires, all painted in the same style, the same hand. He paused at one of his aunt. As he shifted, the glass over the painting caught Dean's reflection. He moved slowly until his face just covered Mary's. In the reflection, Dean's eyes glowed with her ethereal luminescence. He stared for a long time before turning and returning to his room.

He sat himself at the desk and pulled a sheaf of paper forward. Face determined, he began to pen a note:

_Dear Aunt Mary,_

_My whole life I've felt kind of crazy, different from everyone else, and now I know why. You said I now know who I am meant to be, that I have found my answers and you’re right. I know you want me to be human, live a normal life, but I'm not, I can't. I dont think I ever could. Castiel is tied to me somehow; he lingers under my skin and I don't want to fight it. He's my destiny. That's what I know now._

_I love you, Aunt Mary. Good-bye._

Dean left the note on the desk and walked quickly through the halls to the front entrance. Slipping out into the light, he considered the walls surrounding the garden and the gate at far side. He looked back at the house once, then turned and left through the gate. He walked quickly away from the house without another glance.

Inside an hour, he came to a highway. A green road sign read, "Death Valley 120 miles." The sound of an unhealthy engine caught Dean’s ear and he turned to see a VW minibus barrelling down the road in his direction. He stuck out his thumb. The minibus rolled to a stop on the shoulder in a cloud of dust and a kid with neon green hair, white face-paint and fake fangs leaned out the window.

"Need a ride?"

Dean looked past the driver to a crowd of Goths and fake vampires squished into the back of the van. Castiel's voice blared from the speakers. He grinned.

"Yeah."

~~

The line of traffic snaked out along the desert road toward a strange red glow rising into the dark night sky. The distant sound of drums beating chaotic rhythms could be heard for miles around. A mass of people were gathered in a valley of red rock.

Outside the concert entrance, Dean was dressed to the nines. The mesh tank top and chains over black leather pants and combat boots had him fitting right in. Pushing through the crowd, he disappeared into the throng, hesitating for only a moment when he thought he heard his name called.

Bobby caught sight of his protege, dressed to impress, and called his name. He yelled again to Dean as he pushed through the sea of white paint and plastic vampire teeth but the young man had disappeared. Bobby was jostled and he dropped his glasses on the ground.

"Sorry, Grandpa!"

Sighing, he crouched down to retrieve them. Standing, a tingle ran up his spine and he looked up.

Gabriel was watching him from a distance. Bobby was vaguely aware that next to the real thing, all the fake vampires looked ridiculous.

"Hello, Bobby. I must show you my new paintings sometime."

Gabriel smiled and Bobby was awestruck, confronted by the goal of a lifetime of searching. He tried to say something, but it was too late. In an instant, Gabriel was gone into the bustling crowd.

Enormous pipes spouted flames high into the sky, running like a corridor of red light through the crowd, leading to two enormous Egyptian effigies of Abaddon and Azazel flanking a stage at the  
end. Before the stage stretched a mass of human bacchanalian debauchery. It was Woodstock on mescaline. Naked bodies, pierced and tattooed, mingled with the strangest of fashions as crowds gathered in circles around their own lit fires, drumming out hypnotic rhythms.

The whole place was an enormous flaming mosh pit, naked bodies walked across heads of people while others got tossed and thrown. The crowd seemed determined to get what they had been promised: nothing that they'd ever seen.

It was a new world, a world of the initiated who had somehow managed to include themselves in the select number of attendees to a sacred rite. Amongst the mortals were the immortals, flashes of tattooed vampires dressed in cloaks in which they hid their knives and sickles.

Standing on an outcropping of strange rocks at a distance were the Ancients, some of whom couldn't help but smile at the scene below.

"It's just like Nero's day." Ariel said wistfully, to Michael.

They scanned the horizon, including the darkening sky.

Mary's voice was low, "Abaddon will not be able to resist this."

As they watched the crowd began to clap, drums from the different circles began to impatiently beat into one deafening throb of noise.

Backstage was all abuzz with pre-show energy; press everywhere. Roger was still worrying and sweating while James, Alex and Carly sat in their own circle, jamming with their unplugged instruments, psyching themselves up for the biggest night of their lives.

Castiel was stretched out across three chairs in his mobile dressing room with his eyes closed as the sound of the drumming crowd began to make the whole van shudder. Roger popped his head in. "They're getting pretty worked up out there."

Castiel grinned, relented and emerged from his honey-wagon, resplendent in his concert costume: dark velvet slacks and silver boots. His bare chest was covered with intricate runes, symbols that only he understood. He looked ready for anything, whatever might happen. The band looked at each other, then looked to Castiel; this was the moment. He smiled like a father at them.

"Come, children."

Alex, Carly and James started beating out the rhythm with the crowd as they moved through backstage. The drum beat rose to a crescendo.

~~~

Dean made his way through the throng, trying to get closer to the stage. Suddenly the torches went out sending the valley into utter darkness. There was a stunned moment before the crowd went berserk. Dim figures took their places on the stage and Dean continued trying to push toward the front.

Castiel readied himself as he scanned the valley from behind a speaker. He saw the vampires, the real ones, waiting and ready in the crowd, set to attack. He smiled to himself.

BOOM.

The torches relit and an enormous chord surged through the crowd louder than a jet on takeoff. The mass surged forward. The stage lit up in a huge halo of blood-red light as the band began a hypnotic tune that would put the devil under a spell, as they waited for their leader.

The audience didn't see Castiel anywhere but the cheers escalated until it seemed as if the whole of Death Valley was shaking. He appeared suddenly above the stage, inhumanly levitating.

"I'm so glad I decided to rise." His voice rose to a shout, "After tonight, Death Valley will live up to its name!"

The valley erupted into one solid scream as the band kicked in.

Castiel swooped down through the air over the stage and into their very midst. Dean, in the crowd, screamed up to him but his voice was lost in the thousands. Castiel took the microphone and leaned his lips into it, letting his voice soar into an inhuman note, filling the valley with the sounds of a demon demanding heaven be replaced with hell.

The pulsing strain moved and resonated with energy, the crowd almost genuflecting in front of this papal devil. All moved and swayed except for Dean, who desperately continued squeezing through bodies, trying to get closer and closer to his goal.

Castiel, who commanded the place with his echoing voice. Castiel, who held the people in the palm of his hand. His dark soul seemed ready to burst as he moved his voice into an even higher unworldly octave.

The vampires were moving through the crowd. Girls in the front row were weeping. Carly, James and Alex were off in the clouds, playing the best music of their lives. The place had gone wild, living off its own energy as waves of sound bounced through the valley band up into the night sky.

Castiel grinned, "You want more?!"

The crowd screamed.

"This one's for those who've come for me!"

All yelled that they had, but the covens knew the taunt was meant for them. Castiel launched the band into a new number that made the previous song seem like a lullaby. He eyed the coven-assassins here and there and sang straight at them. His lyrics challenged the assassins, flaunting them with satire. Dean, seeing what he was doing, whirled around, spying the assassins in the crowd.

The covens evidently needed no more encouragement as they moved fast through the the crowd, unseen to the masses.

Gabriel too, spied the strange velocity. He looked up at Castiel, worried.

The assassins drew ever closer as Castiel assaulted them with relentless lyrics. Reaching the stage, they were suddenly on it, drawing knives and lunging, determined to dismember the singer. He sprang into an acrobatic leap, dodging the knives, and ripped the microphone from the stand to hold it up just in time. His would-be assassin squirmed and convulsed around the impaling stand and the crowd went insane.

Castiel snarled at the audience as if it really were part of the performance. The assassins attacked again, this time hurtling massive light stands like they were small spears. All were dodged.

They broke glass bottles next, lunging at their prey with the deadly shards and Gabriel could hold himself back no longer. He jumped over the crowd, equipment and roadies, up into the air, the other Ancients watching his progress.

He landed square in the middle of the fray and the crowd cheered at the sudden appearance of a new figure on stage, loving the show. Castiel grinned at Gabriel. The band kept playing as Gabriel hurled a huge light at the assassins. It exploded as it hit them, pinning one with shards of glass. Another hurled a sickle at Castiel, who was struck in the shoulder, his singing stopped. The rest moved in.

The Ancients watched from their rocks. Ariel's face was filled with excitement. "There are too many of them! They're going to dismember him."

Despite Uriel’s stoic appearance, he was clearly enjoying the show as well, "Good."

Down below, the assassins cornered Castiel and Gabriel, blades and broken bottles reflecting the spotlight. Castiel raised his arms for the crowd, who jeered and he looked to Carly and the band, who had finally realized the danger and stopped playing.

"Get out of here!" he yelled to them.

His band scampered off stage as the assassins flew past, ignoring the insignificant humans as the reverb from their guitars pulsed in a deafening pitch.

Dean joined the screaming crowds, "Cas! Cas!"

Just as the assassins made their final move, one after the other, they spontaneously combusted, burning white hot and turning to black ash before drifting up into the air like strange supernatural kites. The crowd hollered and screamed, not quite believing what they saw or how it was done.

Down in the throng, other vampires also began to combust, hot flashes of white exploding through the crowd, turning into black paper dolls, wafting up over the valley before dissipating into fluttering puffs of soot. Panic seemed to overtake the masses as one and they began to run in all directions. Dean remained pinned to his spot.

Castiel stood stock still and Gabriel stared into the darkness, his eyes betraying his fear, "Abaddon."

The valley was filled with hundreds of black ghosts. Raphael, Ariel and Uriel gazed up at the sky. Mary didn't bother, "She is here."

Dean stared in wonder and terror at the burning ‘kites’ before snapping to attention and seizing his chance. He pushed toward the stage against the tide of fleeing bodies.

There was a low powerful rumble and the mortal crowd looked around, momentarily distracted from their panic. Castiel looked up, not knowing from which direction the attack would come next. The stage began to shudder and shake violently.

Dean, now almost to the stage, screamed to him again, "Cas! Cas!"

The wooden platform beneath Castiel buckled under his feet. Fragments of wood exploded upwards around him. Gabriel lost his balance and staggered backwards.

Fragments of sharp wood flew into the audience and Dean raised his hands in a futile attempt to protect himself. He looked up and froze. A woman rose up through the stage, beautiful and terrifying. She grabbed a stunned Castiel and the two of them shot up into the air.

The crowd stared in awe and Dean felt frozen. Roger, the band, everyone was frozen. Bobby stared up at Abaddon, his face white, unable to believe his eyes. Even the Ancients were stunned to finally see their Queen come to life.

Scaffolds collapsed in an explosion of electrical sparks, jarring the crowd back to life, to panic. Only the Ancients and Dean stared up into the sky as Abaddon and Castiel vanished, staring in horror after them.


	16. Be My King

Castiel opened his eyes and found himself on a mountain peak high above the valley, the tiny lights of the concert far below. He whirled around to see Abaddon behind him in an extravagant Egyptian robe, its sheer cloth of gold draping her godly form. He was awestruck, "Abaddon."

She said nothing for a moment, advancing with a luscious, curling smile.

"Why so surprised, my love? You called, and I have come."

Castiel was speechless. There was such an unearthly power in her voice. Everything about her seemed to hum and vibrate with her breath.

"Never fear me, Castiel. Your wishes have all come true."

"My wishes...?"

"You have yearned for a companion to share eternity. You have cried out to the world. I have answered your call."

She spreads her arms, moving ever closer to him.

"You are bold, like your music. It woke me. You live your life in the open, like I did long ago, when I had a King."

Castiel frowned, “Had a King?"

She sneered, "He is no more. You are my consort. I have kept you safe, alive."

"That was you?"

Abaddon laughed, "You thought it was all you? You have the ego of a king as well. I know you, Castiel. I know that you crave to have the world at your feet. I have come to give it to you."

She bit her own lip and blood trickled down across her chin. Castiel stared, a powerful yearning for it growing in his chest as the pulse of her blood increased. He looked at it, torn, both wanting and fearful. Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned in, licking his face. 

"Has your tongue lost its taste for blood?"

Castiel gave in, "Never."

"But you did not kill the mortal man."

He froze but Abaddon simply smiled, "Instead you kissed him. Now kiss me."

She rose above him, hovering over Castiel, letting a single drop of blood spill into his mouth. He levitated off the ground to meet her.

She hovered higher, drawing him into the sky until their mouths finally met and her blood flowed freely into him. Castiel pulled away and gasped as a great surge of power gathered in him and flooded his body with an electric rush.

"Be my King. Forget about everything else."

Castiel looked straight at her, his face flushed. His eyes were empty of everything except her blood.

"What is your answer?"

He looked at her, smiled and her mouth spread into a wicked smile. Flashes of brilliant light strobed over them as he moved to her, sucking again on her lip. There was a powerful rush of wind that engulfed them as they spun together, detached from time and space.

Abaddon's body was taut and arching and Castiel fell back in ecstasy. He shook out his body and let out a howl of pleasure. He felt his arms, his chest, his groin intensely as her otherworldly blood coursed through his veins. She watched and waited until finally, he grinned roguishly through bloody teeth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Can we try that again?"

She smiled at him, then laughed a strange laugh, a kind of purr. Castiel eyes were glazed as he looked at her, the sensual hissing seeming to surround him. It was seductive and terrifying but he didn't care. He no longer cared about anything but her blood. He stepped up, putting a finger to her lips.

"Show me."

Her eyes flashed with delight and she yanked him up into the air and off into the night.


	17. Lost to Us

Back in Mary's mansion, Michael led Dean down the hall. He stared ahead of him at what looked like statues standing in the shadows but his eyes widened as the still figures came to life. Uriel, Ariel, Raphael and Gabriel were talking in hushed tones, gathered before Mary's Family Tree. Mary turned to them.

"We see now what Abaddon means to do. Rule as Queen again."

She pointed to her family, "This is why we must fight her! She looked around, determined, challenging each of the immortals with her fierce gaze. "For the sake of all, she must be stopped, or the mortal world will end."

The Ancients fell silent as they took this in. They looked again to her Family, humbled for a moment by her life's passion.

Michael broke the silence, "But is there a way? We do not know if she can be defeated."

"When she opens herself to give blood, she is vulnerable," Raphael said quietly.

Gabriel nodded, "Then we weaken her. Drain her of almost everything, but leave her just one drop."

Mary shook her head, "We cannot take that chance. We must finish her."

Uriel scoffed, “If she dies, we all die."

Ariel looked torn. “We're damned no matter what happens," she said quietly

"Perhaps," Mary eyes narrowed, her mind working. The others exchanged uncertain glances.

"What about Cas?" Dean interrupted from the sidelines.

Mary looked sadly at her charge, "Castiel has joined with Abaddon. By now he lost is lost to her blood, lost to us now. He will not be coming back."

"I don't believe that," Dean shook his head, remembering the flashes of warmth that flitted through Cas' blue eyes when he looked at him. No, he hadn't given up on Cas yet and he wasn't about to start now.


	18. Earning Your Crown

Castiel and Abaddon stood on a cliff-top, wind ripping through the trees. Everywhere, there were torches, and millions of candles lit a vast house. 

The two glided past a garden of exotic flowers, past fountains and statues and up marble steps to open French doors. Long white curtains billowed in the sea wind.

"Where are we?" Castiel asked, hungry eyes never leaving Abaddon's pulse.

"We are home. We live everywhere and anywhere we choose. The world is our garden."

Castiel stepped in through billowing curtains and stopped. There were three Indian girls standing on the edge of an enormous sunken bath, the surface of water scented with red rose petals. The girls, young, voluptuous and beautiful, were dressed in simple linen dresses and traditional head-wraps. They stared at him, nervous, but moved towards him, away from the edge of the pool. Castiel found himself suddenly surrounded by hands, touching him, reaching beneath his shirt, pulling his clothes from his body. He swooned, closing his eyes, and smiled, "So warm..."

He sniffed their skin...their blood...

"They're mortal..."

Abaddon laughed from outside the haze of his contentment, "Of course. They serve the living goddess, and her consort. They find you beautiful. You are a god in their eyes."

Dark hands pulled his clothes away from his skin. Breasts strained through white linen as they pressed themselves closer to him. 

Castiel broke the surface of the water as he was lowered into the bath, his skin alive with the dancing candles reflected in the water. Strange sighs of pleasure sounded as the girls' hands caressed his torso. Their lingering touches reached down lower and lower through the water... 

His eyes remained closed but his mouth opened…and suddenly it was Abaddon kissing him. He responded, but his eyes snuck a peek. She smiled, taking his head in her hands. She kissed him, pushing him back to the tiled edge of the bath. He tried to push back but he couldn't, startled by her strength. Abaddon kissed down his neck to his chest, and bit. His back arched in ecstasy at the pain but she rose from his chest quickly, his blood on her lips, smiling, before dropping back down to drink.

They moved to the bed eventually - a plush white Eden surrounded by fine nets - kissing, probing each other's bodies. Floating above the bed, Abaddon rolled Castiel over, smiling down at him, fangs exposed. She drew her wrist across her mouth and a globule of blood dropped onto Castiel's open lips. Flicking his tongue out to taste it, he jolted as if hit by a million volts just as she bit into his neck once again. Blood smeared between their bodies as they writhed; they bathed in it.

The most lascivious smile spread over Castiel's face, even as the waves of pleasure coursed through him, causing his mouth to twitch and tremble. He closed his eyes and knew no more.

~~~

Castiel opened his eyes. He sat up alone in the canopied bed, disoriented. Abaddon was nowhere to be seen. 

Through the window, he could see the sun just about to disappear below the horizon. A bright ray slit through the window, falling across his face and he flinched violently, ducking away from and expecting the burning pain. But nothing happened. He sat up stared, amazed, blinking. Shielding his eyes, Castiel slipped from the bed and went to window, gazing in awe at the setting sun. As the last rays sliced through the sky, he closed his eyes, stretching his arms out, basking in the long forgotten feeling of the warmth on his skin. 

He smiled at the sensation he had craved for so long. Still smiling, he opened his eyes, blinking in the light. He turned, looked toward the bath and gasped. 

The dying light illuminated the servant girls' bodies, grey with death, lying around the edge of the bath. The roses were black and the water was coloured a deep rich red.

He stepped into the hallway, finding more dead bodies littering the ground, both those of servants formally dressed, and guests in white tropical evening wear.

The candles had all melted, forming waxen pools that spread across lace cloth. Food sat uneaten on plates, untouched even by the flies that would not venture there. 

The sun's rays struck ten dead bodies sitting around a long table, some slumped onto their food, some frozen upright in death. Castiel moved through the room, the feeling of dread that had been building since he woke was spreading quickly, cutting through the haze of Abaddon’s blood.

He continued out through the French doors onto the beach, where more bodies of servants and villagers were scattered. His feet made barely a sound as he walked slowly down the wooden stairs, onto the sand, the lone moving figure in a sea of still death.

Shielding his eyes, he stared in horror at the wrath.

"Behold our Kingdom."

Castiel turned to see Abaddon watching him, standing further down the beach. The ocean waves lapped lightly at her bare feet.

"Why?"

She was puzzled, "Why not?"

Castiel waved at the bodies, "This is the reason you have risen?"

Abaddon hissed, "They believed in nothing, now they are nothing."

He face smoothed and she smiled, raised her hand, and sliced her wrist with a knife. Castiel's eyes were immediately drawn back to her dripping blood.

"But you and I will change all that. We will give the world something to believe in again."

She crossed to him, her dark eyes locked onto his. She lifted her wrist, letting her blood drip into Castiel's mouth. His eyes glazed over and he smiled, feeding hungrily, lost once again. Abaddon smiled.

"Come, my King. We have a score to settle."

With that, the Queen and her King flew up into the darkening sky.

~~~

Back in Mary's mansion, the Ancients were still debating. As they spoke, the whole place began to shake. A shadow passed over Gabriel's face. "She comes..."

The windows along one side of the hall exploded with a sudden blast. The gathered Ancients looked up to see Abaddon's form looming, dark and foreboding.

"My children. It warms my blood to see you all gathered... plotting against me."

They traded glances and fanned out around the room, not turning their backs on their Queen.

Mary cleared her throat, "Abaddon..."

But the Queen held up a hand, "Mary. You will address my King first."

Castiel entered, his eyes glazed over with power, oblivious to all but the subject of his hunger. 

Dean took a hesitant step forward, "Cas…"

The vampire turned slowly to the corner where the shout had come from. His gaze locked with Dean’s and the mortal flinched back at the chill that came from the uncomprehending icy stare.

"What has she done to you?"

Castiel didn't even blink, "Made me see."

Taking his arm, Abaddon drew Castiel to her. The Ancients positioned themselves under the medieval weapons hanging on the walls, as Gabriel moved toward his son.

"Castiel...step aside."

The younger vampire met his maker's eyes, his gaze unwavering. "Never. She is my Queen."

Gabriel looked for some spark of familiarity, some recognition in Castiel's eyes, but there was none. 

Mary turned to Abaddon, "The world has changed since you reigned."

"Then we shall change it back. Humans are animals, brute creatures. Their destruction can only make sense."

"We have found other ways to co-exist."

"Yes. In the shadows. In silence. In shame. For what? For respect of mortals? They are nothing to us. They are only..." She cast a hungry eye toward Dean and Mary instinctively moved forward to protect him, "food." She laughed, "Poor Mary. Still trying to hold onto the humanity I took from you."

Mary didn't even blink.

Abaddon's gaze turned venomous as she surveyed the gathered vampires. "You think you can change my will? I am tired of this discussion. Join me, or die."

Mary did not hesitate, "I will not."

"I will not," Gabriel spat.

Abaddon raised her arms. "I want to hear it from every one of you. What will it be?"

She scanned the faces of the other Ancients, staring deep into their souls. She saw Raphael glance at the family tree and his eyes blazed with anger. She scoffed.

"Do not tell me, you have feelings for these ridiculous mortals!"

She crossed to the Tree, tracing the names down to one: Dean Winchester. Her ire burnt her blood like a toxin but she kept her temper under control. She turned to Castiel, "Do you love me?"

Smiling, she bit her lip, letting a drop of blood glisten there, tempting him.

His gaze fixed on the glistening drop, "Yes."

He drew closer to her and Dean stared, horrified. Abaddon and Castiel's mouths almost met when Abaddon pulled away. She slowly turned to Dean and pointed at the mortal.

"Prove it. Kill him."

Castiel cocked his head, still watching the blood, "He is nothing to me."

His hollow response seemed to please Abaddon but did not dissuade her. "Just the same, I'd like you to kill him. For me."

She turned to the Ancients to add, "I have had enough of this 'great family.' It is time to end it."

Mary stepped between Castiel and Dean, her eyes burning with the desire to protect her kin. "You will not touch him!"

Abaddon flicked her wrist and Mary was hurled against a pillar, her weight negligible as she was pinned by the Queen’s invisible hand.

Abaddon growled low in her throat, "You still think to challenge me?"

Mary's sob caught in her throat, eyes wide with fear for Dean, but still she struggled against the Queen's hold. "I beg you, spare this child."

Not taking her eyes off Mary, Abaddon smirked and pointed to Castiel, "Now."

His eyes slipping from his struggling and pleading aunt, Dean looked to Castiel for a long moment before stepping forward.

"It's all right, Aunt Mary."

His aunt stopped struggling, fixed in place by the sound of Dean's voice, strong, calm and determined. She watched as he looked to Castiel, straight into the blank blue eyes, his gaze absolutely unwavering, as he spoke to them both. 

"It's what I want. I'm ready now."

He reached up and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal the thin, pink line that remained from where he had previously cut himself.

Castiel stared, watching as the man advanced, their eyes locked as Dean risked everything.

Both of them were vaguely aware of Abaddon chuckling, "How sweet..."

Moving finally, Castiel blinked and licked his lips as Dean advanced on him with determination. The two met, the vampire reacting instinctively to wrap his arm around Dean's shoulders tightly, his hand gripping the back of his neck to hold his prey in place. At this, Mary broke from her bind and attempted to race across the room. She was met halfway by Abaddon, the Queen grabbing a handful of her long blonde hair and yanking her head back to watch her child's fate. 

Unfazed by the tight hold he was locked in, Dean tilted his head to the side, offering up his neck to Castiel's bite. Mary whimpered and shut her eyes.

Castiel sank his teeth into Dean's neck, eliciting a gasp of pain from the human. After a moment, Dean reached up and looped his arm around the vampire to draw him in, holding him just as tightly as he was held as Castiel drained him of his life.

At the moment Cas’ teeth pierced flesh, blood began to weep from the names enshrined on Mary's Family mural and all the Ancients turned, marvelling at the sight.

Castiel drank and drank and Dean focused on breathing deeply, clutching the vampire's neck and back, pulling the bite deeper into his flesh. His eyes were growing heavy with sleep, his body suddenly heavier than he ever realized. He felt his legs crumple beneath him but he was held up by Castiel's unyielding grip. He felt himself being lowered down, down until he was aware of the hard marble of the floor beneath his back. He felt his arms thud to the floor as he finally gave in to their lead heavy weight. His enormously heavy eyelids slid closed and he sighed once more before stilling, his skin pale and cold...dead.

Abaddon laughed triumphantly and threw Mary to the ground, "Good-bye, great Family."

She turned to the mural with a fierce gaze and with a flash, it exploded, crumbling to a million pieces on the ground. Mary did nothing, staring blankly at her child's still body.

"Now, my children, remember your real family!" She opened her arms, welcoming them in, but Castiel stepped forward, his mouth smeared with Dean's blood.

"My Queen, my reward."

"That is right, my King. You have earned your crown."

Castiel grinned and took Abaddon's offered arm. She looked scornfully at the others as he cradled her wrist, "You see how he obeys. You will as well

He looked up quickly, a significant look passing between them as he locked eyes with Gabriel before sinking his teeth into the font. He drank as Abaddon gasped with pleasure at his obedience. Her lecherous smile wavered slightly as Castiel failed to pull away. She looked down at him, her smile fading, "That is enough, Castiel."

Still he did not stop.

"Castiel. Enough. Stop!"

He wrapped his hands around her wrist and clamped down even harder. Abaddon began to thrash, attempting to free herself.

Mary and Gabriel realized simultaneously what the younger vampire was attempting to do. Recognizing the chance Castiel had gained for them, a silent signal passed between the Ancients and they made a unanimous decision. Abaddon looked up, gasping, in time to see Mary, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Michael and Ariel leaping toward her.

She hissed and threw her free hand out to stop them. Most of the Ancients were thrown to the ground and Uriel ignited in mid-air. His skin bubbled and he screamed, the veins in his face rising up and exploding as his blood boiled beneath his skin.

Another gesture from the Queen and Ariel too burst into flames. Her burnt body fell to the ground by Uriel .

Castiel, made strong by Abaddon's blood, kept his hold as Raphael, Michael, Gabriel and Mary got up and tried again. They swarmed over their Queen, each managing to latch onto a vein.

She thrashed even harder now as her blood coursed faster and faster, attempting to circulate the dwindling supply through her body.

Abaddon turned on Raphael and threw out her hand. He stumbled back and screamed as his blood boiled, exploding out of his veins. But he did not ignite and his wounds quickly healed. He took a moment to examine his healed hand before leaping back into the fray.

One by one, the Ancients continued to be flung about by Abaddon's great strength, but they all held on until her frantic thrashing finally began to subside. Suddenly, all the vampires pulled back abruptly.

Abaddon's skin was deathly blue white, her blackish veins standing out prominently from the bites her attackers had inflicted. Her dry lips curled and she managed to spit out her words, "You kill me, you kill yourselves."

The Ancients glanced to each other, uncertain for a moment and Abaddon smirked and turned her head slowly, fixing her gaze on Castiel. He looked back at her, his eyes hard, unyielding.

Suddenly, her eyes flared green as she marshalled the last of her wrath. Castiel cried out in agony and curled in on himself as smoke rose from his limbs. 

Fiercely determined, he struggled forwards again and bit into her throat, going this time for the kill. She sank her nails into his skin but he hung on, his teeth locked deep in her flesh.

Abaddon slowly sunk to the ground, real fear in her eyes as her strength finally evaporated.

"Wait, Castiel! You must stop!"

He pulled away, leaving Abaddon hanging in a twisted, unnatural angle, and looked for the speaker.

Mary moved quickly. She strode over to the pair, pushing Castiel out of the way and sunk her own fangs into the Queen's neck. Abaddon tried to struggle but she could not even stand now and Mary was not stopping. A low howling sound filled the room and Mary jerked back, hissing.

The vampires stared at Abaddon, stepping back in awe as her skin began to grow even more horribly pale, hardening and caking into a chalk; no blood left to flow from the gaping holes in her flesh. Slowly, even that melted to marble as she transformed back to the frozen state she had been in. Cracks and fissures exploded from the polished surface before finally, she fell to pieces, smashing on the stone floor like porcelain.

The room was silent for a long moment as the remaining vampires stared at each other, astonished, seemingly realizing that they had indeed survived.

All but one let out relieved sighs; Castiel was running across the room to kneel by Dean's crumpled body. He picked up his lifeless head, cradling it in his lap as he brought his own wrist to his mouth. He ripped open his skin with his fangs and brought the open vein to Dean's mouth. The man did not respond. Cas’ blood was pounding, but he bent to Dean’s ear and whispered urgently to him.

"I left you one drop. Drink deep and live, my love."

Dean twitched slightly and his lips quivered, the spongy tip of his tongue pressed hesitantly against the torn skin as the blood started to enter his system. His whole body tensed, quivering, before he began to drink.

He pulled back after a moment, gasping and opened his eyes to find Cas looking down at him and smiling gently. 

Dean frowned, his eyes hazy, "I thought I'd lost you."

"Drink, love," Cas coaxed him back towards his still openly bleeding wrist.

Dean's gaze dropped again to the proffered vein as Cas stroked his hair, soothing him. It only took a few more long pulls at his wrist before pain lanced through Dean's body and he pulled away, gasping. He clamped his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the fire. 

Cas held him close as Dean writhed and moaned, his body locked tight in agony until finally, he stilled, all tension bleeding from his limbs. He pulled in a long, shaky breathe and opened his eyes to lock with his maker’s.

Cas traced the outline of Dean's jaw lightly with one finger and leaned in close, nudging Dean’s nose with his own, "You will never lose me."

All the Ancients were staring wide-eyed at Castiel, seeing and understanding what he had done.

Slowly Dean rose, still staring at Cas. His skin was pale now, and his green eyes glowed with a ethereal light. The new vampire froze and spun suddenly, turning to Mary, and all the Ancients followed his gaze.

A whiteness was spreading slowly across Mary's skin. She stared at her arms and hands, turning them over to watch the advance of the stone. Dean was by her side in an instant, "Aunt Mary..."

She laid a cold finger over his lips and he sank to his knees. "My child, let me look at you...You are finally happy. It is as it should be...and I will watch over you…always."

Her hand cupped his cheek for an instant, holding him, before it dropped to her side and she stiffened, freezing into marble.

Michael took a step towards her, his words a reverent whisper, "She took Abaddon's last drop, took her death into herself. Behold, our Queen...our new mother..."

As the Ancients slowly bowed to Mary, Dean’s face twisted with pain and loss. He stood and stepped back to Cas’ side.

"Is she...dead?"

Raphael shook his head, "No, she will live forever. She sleeps. She sleeps, and dreams."

Dean felt Cas’ fingers thread through his own and he squeezed, unable to look away from Mary's still face. On her lips was the most content of smiles and her hands were outstretched, as if to welcome them in. Dean wrenched his gaze away and swiped at his damp cheeks, swallowing hard. He blinked at the red streaks of tears staining his hand.

Cas guided Dean gently away but as they left, he looked back to see Gabriel still bowing at Mary's feet.

His solemn words echoed through the room, "My Queen, I will watch over you…always."


	19. What's It Like?

At the Hunter headquarters, the sun had long disappeared as the shadows won their daily battle. A lamp blazed and cut through the darkness in the study. Bobby sat at his desk, sorting through the mass of news clippings and images from the concert.

_Mass Hysteria_

_Rock 'n' Roll Nightmare_

_Drugs in Water Supply_

_Band starts World Tour but where is Castiel?_

"Good question..."

Bobby looked up at the deep voice to see Dean and Castiel standing in the doorway. He leapt up out of his seat, eyes widening as he recognized the change in his protege.

"My God..."

Dean smirked, "You can call me Dean. Bobby, this is Cas."

The older man looked to Castiel, fear in his eyes, "How do you do?"

Cas snorted, "Charmed, I'm sure."

Dean clapped his hands together, "I did tell you that I'd return with my findings. Well, here they are."

Bobby stared, still shaken. "Uhh, sit? Sorry...it's just...so..."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Unexpected?"

Bobby furrowed his brow, "Strangely, no..." He smiled sadly at Dean but the young man waved him off. "Don't do that. It's good. I'm good." He grinned at Castiel, who was thoughtfully perusing Bobby's groaning bookshelves.

Castiel shot a smile and a loving look at Dean, causing a flicker of curiosity to cross Bobby's face. He cleared his throat, turning to his young protege, "Don't mean to pry, but..."

"What's it like?"

He nodded.

Dean grinned, baring his fangs and earning a wide eyed look from Bobby.

"Do you want to find out?"

Bobby stammered and coughed, "Me?...Nah. Too old to live fer'ever."

"Well, you ever change your mind..." Dean trailed off before he suddenly snapped his fingers in remembrance, "Right! I have a present for you. From an old friend."

He vanished into the hall and returned a moment later to hand Bobby a canvas. Frowning, the older man turned it over and gasped. It was a painting. It depicted Castiel's concert and in the crowd, was Gabriel, looking straight back at the viewer, a smile on his lips. Beside him was Bobby himself, dancing with a young, pretty Goth girl. Bobby laughed.

"And he sent a message. You were right. He didn't go to the Dorchester. But he's gonna be at Claridge's later."

Bobby just stared at him, completely uncomprehending.

Dean suddenly looked uncomfortable and nervous, "...I guess this is good-bye then."

Bobby cleared his throat for what felt like the millionth time since his visitors had appeared. "Guess so." He glanced at the older vampire, "Take care of him."

"Always," Castiel inclined his head.

Bobby looked at Dean, the man he thought of as his son, and managed to choke out, "Good-bye, Dean."

He closed his eyes to shut out the tears, but Dean was suddenly at his side, clasping his shoulder and leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Good-bye, old man.

Bobby opened his eyes, but they were gone. He looked back at the painting, staring at Gabriel’s image for a long time. Like a cloth being drawn away from his mind, his eyes widened in understanding and he stood, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.

Dean and Cas stepped out of the Hunter headquarters into the chilly London evening.

Cas took Dean’s hand and together they jumped up over the wall and out to the street. Cas pulled Dean into his arms and they kissed, long, deep, and passionate. When he pulled away, Dean waggled his eyebrows at him, eliciting a low chuckle from Cas.

"Shall we go get a drink, love?"

Dean grinned, fangs flashing in the moonlight, and nodded. Cas took his hand, and pulled him into the nighttime crowd. The two zipped through the streets at preternatural speed, losing themselves to the night.

THE END


End file.
